Cool grasses cradle my back. Fireflies flicker. I inhale the sweet, damp air, at peace for the first time in five years, three months, and nineteen days.
I could lay here beneath the black sky for eternity. Instead, I rise and kiss my husband’s tombstone before slipping into the shadows.
Mandie Hines writes in the Rocky Mountain region. She’s driven to create pieces of fiction that capture moments of human vulnerability. Visit mandiehines.com for more.
Sunday afternoons are the worst.
The stillness brings flashbacks of the tv dinner / hard eyes / swirling cig smoke combo. Suffocation.
I keep rolling. Stepping through the trees. Logging miles on the decades between me and that.
When I finish it’s dark and heading into Monday. I’m still here; escaped again.
Petra lives, works, and writes in the Philadelphia area. She is in the process of publishing her first book. Her days are spent selling Real Estate, planning jaw-dropping travel itineraries, and awaiting the birth of her first grandchild. She has (and always will have) a little white dog. The current one is named Bindi.