AT THE RIGHT TIME AND THE RIGHT PLACE, THEY’RE CAPABLE OF ANYTHING.”
Did he jump or was he pushed? He was sad. He had regrets. He was mad. He could never forget. But was he shoved or did he dive?
Dragged from the river this morning. Mouth gaping as though gasping for air. Lips wan as candles. Cheeks of a human fish. Eyes wide open, unseeing. Yes, he’d been been swirling and drowning for hours. Marks on his head after he was under. Blood washed away by the river. But he took in plenty of water. Breathed in without any gills.
He floated at the edge of the stream. Too heavy for the old boys to lift out. Drifted face down to the keep net. The biggest fish they’d ever caught. His silver hair meshed with waving weeds. His rainbow hued clothes oozed with water. Soon on his back on the bank. All washed up and spectral clean.
He drowned all right. Got bashed about a bit. He probably jumped. Perhaps he slipped. No evidence of killing. Plenty signs of death. Lodged in his chest was your watch. Still ticking at quarter to two. And, right by his heart, a tattoo. Your name in a heart. Forever.
Two books in my pocket 