The Meeting

Photo Courtesy of The Storyteller's Abode
Photo Courtesy of The Storyteller’s Abode

Katie took another drag of her cigarette, and then thumped the remainder into the air like a paper football.  She stepped away from the rock she had leaned against for  hours, and wiped at the tears that drained down her dusty face.  What had made her think love could flourish again? She sighed.

The sun was low on the horizon.   It was time to go.

Had she really thought he would come?

She had never been one to believe that psychic mumbo-jumbo shit, but the woman…the woman caressing the glass ball… she had been so convincing.  She had even known “their place”.  No one knew of their place…no one.

Katie, disappointed in herself for believing, whispered, “He’s dead…you dumb bitch…dead…”

Turning her back to the twin stones, Katie began her descent back down the mountain. She had only taken a couple of steps when something  fluttered by her ear and fell to the ground.  Katie looked down.  There by her boots lay the cigarette she had tossed away.

Katie smiled…she knew he had come.

 

(This short story was first published in my other blog Redhead Reflections)  (Come on over for a visit!)
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2 thoughts on “The Meeting

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