“Meet me @ pk. Usual plc. 11am.”
He was only 25 minutes late. Although he was standing in her favorite place–the brick wall leading to the outbuilding that served hot chocolate in the winter–Julie was nowhere in sight. He’d expected to find her here, sitting atop the wall, one leg tucked up and the other swinging haphazardly as she jotted in the journal she carried everywhere. He could see her there now, bottom lip caught lightly in her teeth as she concentrated on the page in front of her.
He swallowed his frustration and kicked at the leaves underfoot. It was the height of autumn, and the trees burst forth with colors one would never have guessed them capable of in the greens of spring and summer. The display always caught Andy by surprise. He had a habit of noticing nothing until it confronted him full in the face.
A goose honked behind him. Startled, he turned fully to face it. It honked again, cocked its head slightly at him, then turned away. As he watched, distracted, it broke into a jog, spread its wings and joined its flock as they all took to the air. The world seemed full of motion, as hundreds of shades of grey streaked from the lake to the sky. Andy paused for a moment, enchanted by the transition of startled chaos to precise orchestration.
Julie had likely been angry at him for being late. She’d been distant, moody, wistful lately. And there was that moment yesterday, when she’d grabbed his hand and looked intently into his face. “They’re calling me, Andy. I feel it in my soul.” She had kissed him then–a long, earnest kiss–and he’d forgotten her strange words only a minute before.
Idly, he kept kicking at the leaves. And then he hit something hard that made him stop and gingerly part the leaves with his foot. It was Julie’s journal.
At that moment, scattered feathers drifted down from above.
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It’s been two months since I wrote any flash fiction and this one is way over the 200-word count, even after much editing. I’m sorry!