The rain had left its mark–cloudy sky on the head and watery on the feet. There’s a shelter at the far end. But, I do not need to go so far. I stopped at the mid and take out a pack of cigarettes, a new lighter and the current issue of Reader’s Digest from my bag. I looked around quickly. There was no one. I sat down supporting on my left knee and drop the items. They create a ripple. You want to die then die…a fragment of a decade old argument echoed; the hand immerges out of the water.
Sunday Photo Fictions (03/26/2017)