Question after question

February 6, 2013

I don’t have an answer, she said. She sat on the grass among scattered leaves, and she just kept coming up with question after question.

She folded one of the leaves in her palm, but when she opened her hand again, it had cracked in half, some of the edges pulverizing into dust that settled into her health line. She brushed the leaf and its detritus away and settled onto her back, staring up at the nearly-nude branches above.

Does it really matter what I say? She had long stopped looking in his direction, after all.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: