When the motion stops, the problems start.
Winding ribbons of motorways, the lazy curve of a slow-flowing river, the pitch and toss of a turbulent sea. All of these keep the past on the back-boiler, out of sight, yet simmering gently.
But tonight all is still. And the tide of memories returns.
He saw them today. Could have reached out, spoken, touched them. But even from across the jetty he sensed the tentacles of their neediness, coiling, ready to strike, squeezing the liberty from his soul.
His woman, still beautiful, his kids still cute.
And some other guy. Still.
Happy New Year to all Friday Fictioneers, past and present! Now entering my ninth year of participation, so thanks to our leader Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for services rendered to the cause. I’ve a feeling this year is going to be a good one for her. 🙂