The cliff juts out below like razor blades slicing up the angry water. I kick a rock over the edge.
I hate this place. You didn’t.
I pull the cardboard box from my jacket and choke back tears.
All we have left are memories.
I open the box and dump the contents on the place you proposed. When I do, a breeze blows in. The ashes fall lightly on me. I smile.
Perhaps even now you will never leave my side.
Photo courtesy of Stocksnap.io.
In response to this week’s microprose challenge over at Yeah Write.