A Way Off This World
By the third day, the river changed direction to match her steps.
It wasn't subtle. She checked twice. Same bend. Same timing.
The water tasted like pennies and something sweet gone bad.
The second swallow didn't go down clean. It paused. Then slipped.
She kept walking.
The bank narrowed.
The current followed.
Behind her, the mud smoothed itself flat.
No prints. No record.
Ahead, the river widened into something that didn't move at all.
Just waited.
Her stomach shifted.
The path wasn't leading her anywhere.
It was finishing something.