Words from his first real date with Leezeeanne echoed in his head.
Mallard making his decision on that crest of thrashing water.*
Pizza and a beer. Mozzarella stretching a river to her mouth.
A comfortableness between them.
Walking her home, streetlight to stroboscopic streetlight.
She put her arm through his. Laid her head on his shoulder.
Teaching her to raft. To thrive on the river. To survive.
She lived for the moment, always quoting: “Tomorrow . . . [is] . . . another country.”
They could worry about passports then.
Mallard stared through the spray.
A yellow balloon bobbled along.
Someone was held to the raft by a safety rope.
Leaning against the rubber. Appearing. Disappearing. Appearing.
He called to his crew. “Paddles deep. Pull. Hove to the right.”
Mallard followed the raft with his eyes. Marking the shortening distance between the two.
Marking the closeness to his heart.
*See: “A ‘white water melodrama’” March 23, 2015
Written for Mondays Finish the Story: March 30th, 2015.
White water rafting and pizza?
Some folks liked the unresolved, A “white water” melodrama from the March 23, 2015 Mondays Finish the Story. A cliff-hanger ending allowed readers to finish the story themselves. Others wanted to know Mallard’s decision. To find out the rest of the story.
So, I will try to use each week’s picture to continue the story. I hope this doesn’t become tedious or too much of a stretch.