By MICHAEL BUCKINGHAM GRAY.
SHE CALLS HER DOG. No reply. She runs along the narrow path, up a rocky peak, and down the other side. Jogs through a cluster of trees. Turns into a corner and knocks into a man coming in the opposite direction. Stops. Dips her head, puts her hands on her hips and pants with exhaustion.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
He narrows his eyes, picks up his fishing rod and pushes by. Again, she calls her dog. No response. She starts to jog once more. Exits into a clearing. Twists her head one way, and then the other. Brushes by some bushes. Pauses by the river. Regains her breath and walks along its stony bank.
The wind carries a whine. She cups her ear and follows the sound. Stops. Smiles. And shakes her head at her dog, pacing up and down the opposite side of the river.
Michael Buckingham Gray’s writing has appeared in Flash: The International Short-Short Story Magazine, Microfiction Monday Magazine and elsewhere. His debut fiction ‘And Brings Up Loose Dirt’ was labelled a “masterpiece” by SmokeLong Quarterly. He teaches writing for Work-Shop. His Fortnightly archive is here.