July 5, 2009

Waiting

He could hear the water before he could see it.

Roaring and pushing through the forest like an army.

The water was cold and sharp, like needles piercing his ankles as he waded in.

He should have taken off his shoes, but he was too tired.

It was hard to walk as the cold river filled his shoes.

When water splashed his knees, he turned and looked back at the shore.

A small white puppy looked at him with eager eyes, perched on the edge of the bank.

For a second he thought he heard whimpering above the roar of the river, but it was only in his head.

He turned away from the bank and waded deeper.

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