I remember the morning you left like it was yesterday. The sky was an ocean blue, a few cotton candy clouds crept in. The trees made me think about football and that Tennessee college team you liked so much. The air was crisp, I recall grabbing my hoodie and following you out to the car. You spoke a thousand words a minute, telling me you’d had enough of the country life, there wasn’t a fish you couldn’t catch or a buck you couldn’t take the last breath from. I believed all of that to be true but I also knew you would be back.
You couldn’t keep money, it didn’t matter how much of it you had. It’d be gone in no time, as soon as you came upon the first half full parking lot with flashy neon signs scattered across the side of the building. The sound of the slots and the dinging of the bells would take you out of the game, or maybe it would be the cards sliding across the green felt fabric, the dainty hands with long red nails flipping through the deck. You had a weakness. I wasn’t surprised when they told me the real winner was the sound of the ice hitting the glass. You liked your drink on the rocks. Your body ended up there also. They said you fell to your death down an embankment not to far from the casino but, I heard the whispers and knew you paid a debt with your life.
So, now I sit on the water’s edge, reminiscing of a better time, and the love we once shared, the love you took from me. I see our reflections as I struggle to erase this mirror in my mind.
Leesa Writes 
Nicely done, Leesa. Interesting.
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