Floating
Preface: Really short story I wrote based on a dream I had. You float down from the sky to meet with me, passing through clouds and buildings, riding the winds to where I stand: a bridge overlooking a bay. It is a picturesque view, the seagulls’ squawks cutting through crashing waves, mist spraying with every bombardment of the rocks on the shore. You turn to me. I had no idea, you say. Really? I respond. But it was always there, was it not? Your eyes are wet from tears or perhaps it is simply the wind as we stare together at this golden orb on the horizon. It draws streaks across the surface of the water, sinking beneath it ever so slightly, its movement hardly perceptible as it paints the hills in the far distance with its lines of orange and yellow and black. How fickle the mind truly is, missing the details which matter in favor of the larger picture, casting aside what allows a person to understand. I can see by the way that you stare t...