51
Crumbs Of Comfort
The shores of Lake Zurich, Switzerland.
The scene was beautiful, fresh and green. It rained, but it was a friendly rain. The kind of rain that made a gentle patter on the canopy of my black umbrella. A soft breeze rustled the trees. "SOS" by Abba played out of a portable speaker on the grass, hooked up to my phone.
I sucked up the tears before they could break and tossed a few tulips on the ground in front of me. Something to fix on, I suppose, in the absence of a grave or a headstone.
“Well, I guess this is the part where I say something deep and meaningful,” I said. “I know we weren’t always BFFs. And you did try and shoot me. And stab me. And beat me to death. But—argh. This is coming out all wrong . . . I guess what I’m trying to say is, thanks for coming back
