ND Harshbarger

The Reflection

This pier was not one I recognized. It jutted out into a black sea I had no memory of, yet I stood there as if summoned. The boards beneath my boots groaned with age. The air, slick with cold mist that never settled, clung to everything. Wetness shimmered on everything – the air, the railing, even the sky. The salt stuck in my lungs like regret.