short story sunday

Maggie liked the way the sunlight splattered across the bridge. Almost as if it was picky about where it decided to sit. She knew the feeling. She'd been looking across that short stretch of wood for the better part of two hours.

It was strange to think that all it took to change the course of something was a few short steps The cliche made her laugh out loud. She could hear voices behind her, they were getting closer. And it had started out as such a pleasant day, too.

Maggie got up off the ground and paced back and forth. The metal handrail fit nicely against the palm of her hand as she wrapped her fingers around it. It was cool, comforting. The wind was lazy, not moving much, contemplative. It felt like the whole world was considering as well, waiting to see what the next move should be.

She turned and looked behind her. They were in sight now, just tiny specks in the distance but they were persistent, weren't they? She squinted and tilted her head to the right. Wouldn't take long for them to catch up, she could see Helen waving at her.

It was nice that the choices had become so simple: wave back or move on. Maggie raised her arm halfway and placed her left foot one step back. Choices. Seems like all there ever is are choices.







Short Story Sunday is a series of mini stories based on random photos. They are quick, spontaneous flashes of abstract fiction.