Sam put the car in park with an irritated thrust. “Dammit Camille.” He took the front steps two at a time, stopping abruptly. The door stood ajar. “Camille?” He said, easing it open. She obsessed over locked doors. Silence. Fear slithered down his back.
He moved through the house, calling her name, looking in closets and under beds. Panic rose in his throat like sour food as he ran down the drive. “Camille?”
Then, he saw it and dropped to his knees. Her shoe. It lay on the street drain like a discarded, terrifying clue, written in red.
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Brandon ran his hand over the notched edges running the length of the canoe. Smooth to the touch; his dad’s words came back to him, “Connection is everything.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat at the memories spent in the old barn. The way his dad’s steady hands labored in love, cutting with precision, and sanding to perfection.
They spent hours dreaming of their maiden voyage. But, God had a different voyage in mind.
He rubbed the years of dust and cobwebs away and moved the canoe to the water’s edge. As his paddle touched the water, a gentle breeze brushed his face, and he’d never felt more connected.
In response to Friday Fictioneers Photo Prompt
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