River

| STARE | RIVER | HOLD | TRUE | WEAR |



Maria leaned against the edge of the bridge and stared at the water; as it moved slowly, lazily, below. The river was wide here and it was a long way down. Close behind her an endless procession of automobiles maneuvered from end to end and lane to lane; occupied by commuters and car poolers intent on reaching the city. They were as oblivious of her, as she was of them.

She thought about love, she thought about true love. She decided that there was no such thing, and had probably never been. It was a lie made up by story tellers, song writers, and movie makers – nothing more.

The black pumps she was wearing, had to go, she couldn’t climb with them on. She set them neatly, side by side on the pavement and tucked her license in the toe of one, so they would know who she had been.

She grabbed hold of the railing and pulled herself to the top where she balanced briefly before closing her eyes, spreading her arms wide, and leaning forward to let gravity have its way with her.

She gained speed and momentum as she fell silently, her full skirt billowing behind. The impact, when it came, was sudden. It was done.


A Monday morning response to another Monday Writing Prompt generously provided by The Secret Keeper.