The sound of that creak reminded her of the slightly off kilter sound that a metronome makes when the weight is set a little too high. Each duration between tick and tock lasting almost imperceptibly longer than the last. Stumbling back. Lurching forth. Stumbling back. Lurching forth.
Back.
And forth again until she wondered if she had ever really heard any sound at all. But there he was. Right there. Right there in front of her as she peered through the fence. Watching him. So small. So very very small. His toe dragged in the dust as the swing swung its last swing. The sound of that creak made her queasy.
No comments:
Post a Comment