No U-turn

"We could have talked ..."

In the tumbling dawn, the words drifted, poignant, unfinished. A cold silence settled as the rising sun painted a wild picture across the cloud strewn sky. He held her. She gripped him, shaking. Each one lost in their own thoughts, puzzled, angry, fearful teenage thoughts about what had just happened.

With infinite patience and determination the ball of fire in the east pulled itself free of the grip of the horizon, to reclaim its throne in the heavens. The wild artist today, shards of red and orange splintered the night sky, with no apology for breaking into the stealth of a moon free dark night.

“We should have talked …”

“Yeah, maybe we should’ve …”

The first yellow beams shot across the vapid countryside, outlining the inert form on the grass at their feet with its blood-covered slit wrists.

“We should have talked …”