Rain falls on rivers
Fine stippling below the trees
Fish rise, do not bite
Rain falls on rivers
Fine stippling below the trees
Fish rise, do not bite
That cyclist hasn’t thought through the whole flowers-in-the-backpack situation. Pedestrians are showered with petals like confetti. Some smile and hold hands more tightly, others brush petals from their faces. Perhaps tears. The cyclist speeds on. At his destination, perhaps a red-brick block near the bypass, disappointment waits with its usual patience.
There! A way through! Hope rushed through his veins. But no, he’d tried that before. The hope soured into a sickening slow poison.
Imagine a sad voice.
The saddest thing you’ve ever heard in the saddest voice you’ve ever heard.
Feel your heart tear.
Hear the words ‘But I believed him….’