“I’m leaving.

Words dance on blue paper, as tears create inkblots.”

No. This sounds like the beginning of a vintage story. Who writes letters in this day and age?

A message needs to be timed correctly. They should see it only when she is well beyond their reach. Her fear surprises her. Is she still afraid of those old trees watching her? She outgrew the shadows long back, or so she thought.

She turns back for the last time, and finds the right words.

“I’m fed up of circulating in the same pond. Need to flow in bigger oceans. Goodbye!”

37 thoughts on “Goodbye

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