PLOP !

Perspiration dripped, sliding, slowly, achingly down the salt trail left from the tears I had cried hours before. Alone with no one to see, it must not exist.

Lying face down on the dock, the little drop sent waves shimmering out into the lake.

Out there, a sylph catalogued my woes that were numbered by my tears and evidenced in concentric circles.

Patience , I think “time will ease my-” No. I want this pain to remind me. And the ripples ebb against the dock that I cannot leave.

Plop