“When the water dies, the pavement swells. It is the excuse of our flourishing faults. Our ignorance lives and the moss covers the cold stones. The sunrise sleeps and the dusk wins. In the matter of choice, we only have the option to surrender—we do.”
I stand before the landscape of your painting. You have carved a vivid abstract in my head—it wakes my veins during my loneliest hours. If I lived your words, would you still be here? Or would we grow apart?
The two rivers meet halfway—close enough for a kiss, but still far for a touch.
Check out this week’s prompt at:
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
WORD COUNT: 102
Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.