(miniflash story)

When she returned to the village, everything seemed smaller.

The trees no longer touched the sky. The house had new curtains. The dog next door didn’t bark at her anymore — he was gone.

But the swing was still there.

Old, rusted, its ropes worn smooth by years of holding on. She walked over, instinctively avoiding the loose stone on the path, just like she used to. Funny what the body remembers.

She sat. The wood creaked under her weight, and the wind moved just enough to rock her gently.

For a moment, she was six again. Barefoot. Laughing. Reaching her toes toward the clouds.

And then she came back to the here and now. Grown. Tired. But smiling.

Not everything had to be lost. Some things waited quietly for you to come back.