Beneath the Myrtle Tree

A story of a man walking.

 The bright summer breeze had just began to blow the week before. A man trotted along the ledge of a bridge lined with blooming Crape Myrtle trees. He felt exhausted; his lips were parched from the torrid heat of the summer sun. The man stopped his jog to escape its blistering rays and rested beneath one of the Myrtle trees. The man paused to catch his breath, he noticed something peculiar about the road ahead of him. 

He came to the sudden realization that he had never crossed this part of the bridge before. He had always ran along the left side of the bridge and never the right side. It all seemed very new. The trees had always been on his right, the crack�" that he always avoided�" was gone, and the graffiti written along the left wall was sprayed on the right�" yet poorly painted over. It felt different. 

It seemed cleaner, it seemed normal, it seemed empty. The sun receded behind the curtain of clouds. The man took this as an opportunity and continued his trek home. 

Author's Note

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Reviews

[JL Jacobs]

I really enjoyed this. Sometimes in life, we take the same path that we overlook the possibilities of newer ones. But in this example, the grass wasn't necessarily greener on the other side now was it?