The Scent of Fog

Ok it took a bit longer — graduations, ugh! 100 words…here ya go!

Heels clatter passed me as the fog swallows my will. The thrill of being something else pulls. I follow. “I will be gone with the mist, for I belong to it. ”

The wind bites, but I’m not afraid, should I be? “Sit and I will tell you of hoar’s frost.” Visions swim in my head. My blood is her blood. Nausea. “Shh, it has to be.; a knife glimmers. Blackness.

It’s noon, I am alone, branded. The fog coats me in diamond dust. She will return and we will go together where the fog sinks back across the bay.