I thought a visit to the docks would be good for her. I suppose I was partly right.
“It’s good, Mama.” That’s what she said as she sank, her expression more serene than I’d ever seen.
At first, she skipped around, chattering to wavery images in the water, and I watched the omnipresent crease between her brows soften and disappear. When she leaned over to converse with a wavery face, I grabbed for her. She swiveled away and clasped a wavery hand extending from the water.
She slipped off the dock and faced me as she sank.
“It’s good, Mama.”
Flash fiction written for Friday Fictioneers.
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