By Cerys Scorey
I saw the end coming. One of us would go north whilst the other sank deep to the south. That’s just the effect we had on each other. Odd socks, they called us. We never did coordinate.
If you were here, you’d be pleading with me; you’d tell me I was making the wrong decision.
But I’m the one left deciding— Me and the threatening wind, as I balance wearily on crumbling rust.
I could get on a train: move on with my life. Or jump in front of one and end it.
Jump South, now. End up North with you.
A small story but complete, has all the ingredients of an interesting tale, the conflict, the lament,remorse.
A sweet-sad story. Tugs at the heartstrings. I liked it a lot.