by Megan Doyle
I came to unravel my matted mind, left tangled by a tedious February. I pull in alongside the others overlooking the harbor, all seeking refuge from rush hour.
Muffled waves of talk radio emanate from a sedan to my left. The driver, sitting very tall, seems almost regal in his high-collared wool coat. Narrow rivulets glint along his stubbled cheeks: the final, dignified tears of letting go.
In our collective isolation, we stare, determined, at the water’s surface, a sheet of creased aluminum in the sinking sun. We pray that in witnessing that extra minute of light, we might renew our faith in second chances.
2 comments:
Quite the short, yet evocative scene. Makes me want more.
So compelling- love how we are drawn into the characters' sadness even without knowing the exact cause for their pain. Makes for a haunting image.
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