Perhaps the Moon had captured his voice.He watched it now. The whole of it, hovering just over the horizon. Stunning in its everyday beauty.He knew he should say something. He knew he should let go of her hand. She had already said goodbye. Already said it was over.He looked down at their hands as he released his hold, watching her hand fall back to her side like it had never touched his.He offered her a small smile but no words came.She turned and walked away and, for a moment, he imagined the moon was following her, leaving him in darkness.He waited for the heavy feeling to arrive in the pit of his stomach and was surprised when it didn’t come.He looked back up at the Moon and felt warmed by the reflected light.Life, it seemed, was determined to go on.
This is a very poetic Short Fiction Jerry. You have really captured a moment. I'm thinking that this must have really happened somewhere at some point in time which would make it non-fiction...
Thanks Michael. Rest assured, it's fiction in my world.
Lovely story. That last sentence just ties everything together so nicely. Well done.
Mike, we've had nothing but thick clouds, rain and more rain, and not a glimpse of that moon that the entire world is talking about. So very disappointing.
We haven't had the greatest moon viewing here in mid-Michigan either... but I have seen pictures.
It's been beautiful here. And I've been working so much we come outside at around the same time.
Here is my contribution! http://meenarose.wordpress.com/2012/05/11/flash-write-fridays-the-eyes-of-the-beholder/