"If I asked you to jump off a cliff with me would you do it?" She turned to look at me, the wild sea reflected in her histrionic stare, grey ocean breakers cresting higher. "What if I said we would fly?"
They taught us to play along with the childish fantasies of patients like Rachel. Her grey ocean was only the sky at the RV park, the only thing in Pocasset, Oklahoma where she grew up.
"Where would we fly?" I asked.
"Through the glass, of course."
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Under The Shallow Water: A Collection
Short StoryAn ongoing collection of poetry and prose.
