Mary Beesley

The Choice

Felix had walked the path from the grain mill home every day after work for forty-years, since his fourteenth birthday. After his dad died, he walked it alone. He preferred the dirt road and bird song to the exhaust smoke and human chatter over on the main street. Surrounded by trees and sunshine, it was easier to forget he didn’t have a car. Or a wife to drive around with. Or somewhere interesting to go.