She pulled a geological survey map from her pack, jostling her water bottle and a squished peanut butter sandwich. ![]() Her memories were dying–the secret ones, the memories that let her touch the sky, the memories of how to cast a branch to find missing things, or summon a flower in her hand. The air stagnated, heavy and dry, baking itself into the earth. ![]() Dust rose around her, obscuring her truck by the side of the road. Rachel could feel the hum of them, their longing for closeness, pressing against her as the sun pressed down. ![]() ![]() In the lakebed by the mountains slept stones full of secrets. Pulling Secrets from Stones by Beth Goder
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |