In my father’s garden

Something moved in the shadows. I held my breath.

An hour past midnight on new moon night, read the unsigned note. Bring no lamp. It was a risk: death for you, censure for me—and a lifetime of mourning.

“Come.” Your voice floated from the darkness. I shouldered my pack, and we ran.

Featured image by StockSnap from Pixabay

5 thoughts on “In my father’s garden

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