Sitting under a striped beach umbrella, SHE is absorbed in a paperback novel.
Off to the right and closing fast, HE is running toward her at full speed, his eyes fixed on the plaid kite trailing behind him.
Destiny is like a word problem: if one train heads east and another heads west on the same track, will two strangers fall in love at the point of impact?
Shouting a warning that goes unheard, I can’t help but wonder about inexorable forces and immovable objects (and the dubious taste of pairing stripes with plaid).
Bill Waters is a published writer of short poetry and compressed prose. His work has appeared around the world in print and online journals as well as locally in Hopewell Valley Neighbors magazine and on outdoor signs. He and his wife Nancy reside in Pennington, where their lives are ruled by two cats.
