One Way or Another
He hadn’t expected this.
Where he’d last seen vistas of verdant hedgerows hung with fat berries fit to burst beneath the swell of a summer sun, he now found parched and tangled sticks. Where before fruit on trees had hung heavy and inviting, warmth opening the pores of their skins, he now saw a pink-brown sludge of untouched, unwanted flesh, fallen from wait, at the base of bereaved branches.
He’d expected a welcome befitting his pain; of something akin to a mother spreading her arms in refuge, reassuring him he’d made the right decision, that punishment was not justified. She will thank you, he imagined the trees’ unspoken translation to be, in time she will come to see this was for the best. You wait.
He walked, and with every step he took, he began to think less of her and more of himself. This was his comfort; he hadn’t needed blossoming fruits to sanction his being there after all.
The attraction had been the absence of communication but even so, on his return, he was surprised that no form of contact had been attempted. Exhausting e-mails and voice messages, finally he slipped a piece of card from the only envelope and read that her funeral would be held at the same time and place they’d planned for their wedding.
Written in response to the www.creativewritingink.co.uk image prompt 18th July 2019