“What song is this?” I ask, but the big man only smiles. His ukulele, playfully played, turns one chord over into the next.
The sun is strong here. The land spills eastward in emerald slopes to a line of trees, where colors stripe the overhanging mist and mourning doves call from the shade.
I remember nothing from before but I am not sad, only calm, and when I see a movement at the tree line, a figure slowly walking, I start downhill.
The big man sings and the mournful birds echo his melody.
It is a good song.
This story is my response Madison Woods’ Friday Fictioneers prompt (the picture, from her blog, is the prompt). Check out the other stories (including Madison’s) and submit your own on the comments page!
Feedback and other stories welcome below! Please feel free to check out some of my other fiction — I’d love the feedback!