the situation has become mundane

07/23/2025 | tate-abrahamson | #from_prompts

In the beginning we were in love. We laughed and kissed in cornfields and rivers. Our knees bruised and scabbed and water weighed in our shoes. Tree branches swayed in northern heat as mosquitoes bit soft skin. Over time your hands became calloused and mine softened. Our touch was reversed and I forgot how to fish. My heart weakened at their big eyes and gaping mouths. Their helpless gasps form a lump in my throat. But you slice off scales with ease. When we were young, we played at life and at death. We caught fish and watched them die, gutted and cleaned them with joy. Life was massive and untamed. When I think of that time, I think of your hair - matted with leaves and sticks and reeking of river water. You found flower petals for us to crush and we painted on hot stones. Our lives - expanding and encroaching - killed the things around us. We noticed each death, and relished in the life it seemed to give us back. A flower, a fish, and bug. Death was massive and untamed. One wrong foot placement and we would be swept down river, our bones shattering as we tossed against rocks. Water would fill our lungs. I remember burying my face in your hair and taking long gulps. I imagined the water sliding down my throat and nose. My lungs would expand, welcoming fish and frogs and pebbles. An ecosystem would rise in my chest as my heart beat slowed. I would be returned to the earth. I would be the earth. But that was when we were kids and life was massive and death untamed. Now my hands have gone soft from the absence of a fishing rod. I have no splinters. And yours have gone rough from hammers and nails. And life has become small. I work well into the evening and I haven’t seen my family much. I heard you don’t talk to yours anymore. I wonder if that’s why you’ve taken up fishing again. We stand side by side on the same rocks as before. They are smoother and my reflexes slower, so I slip constantly. Neither of us laugh when I do. You wear a stern expression as your line cuts through the water. We’re more serious now, though we shouldn’t be. We used to come here to catch dinner for our families, but now we’re just here to catch the memories that drift on the breeze. Death no longer seems wild, but rather sterile and sure. Our lives have shrunk, and with it, death. We stand in silence for a long time, letting the death of our love flow around our ankles. A leaf loosens from the tree above, landing beside me on the hot stone. I sigh at the situation we’ve found ourselves in, small and tamed. A stick breaks close by and neither of us turn our heads. We know now that bears are unlikely this time of year. My heart yearns for the time when we thought each shadow would leap out and attack. We’ve become somewhat mundane.

prompt found on reddit under r/SimplePrompts

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