“Move on,” he said as he left.
And gradually the anger softened; I found I could manipulate it.
Sometimes I’d even briefly forget, but then the rivulets of resentment trickled unseen, spilling into other parts of my life before hardening into spikes of bitterness. I would break them off at will… roll them fractiously between my fingers.
I saw them today, laughing, glowing with love and life.
And the pain returned.
So tonight I carefully fashioned two more figures, suspending them by the neck above the flame again, but closer.
It had better work this time… I need to move on.
We’re leaving port today, so just enough time to post this week’s Friday Fictioneers submission before casting off. Will catch up with you all later on, internet connection permitting. Thanks once again to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for her patience, perseverance and unfailing diplomacy. 🙂