Photo by Sue Vincent
I trod the ancient path towards the summit. Each step on the well-worn flagstones was an effort. An effort that we both had to make to meet here alone to talk, to discuss our differences.
She would be following a similar path up the other side of the hill. She would also see the crenellated walls of the mighty fortress ahead and above. She too would study the overgrown road in front of her. She too would find it a labor to crest this mountain and meet in the castle at its peak.
I stopped just beneath the grey stone wall at the summit and turned to look out across the landscape. Grey clouds were rushing in, almost scraping the structure above me. Was the dark a story of the past or a foretelling of the future?
It was the past that stretched out to the…
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