I recall that morning. Everything was misty grey: the gravel road that kicked dust from the tires, the clouds above us, her sweatshirt adorned with the words, ‘Carmel- by-the-sea.’

We were so far north of Carmel.

Desperate for a break, hoping to convince myself, fears are paper tigers come to play, I’d left the city behind.

She stood there, familiar yet out of place.

Published by

Anna G. Watson

~ write like a painter