Laura drove her four by four, along a path that could best be described as a favor on humanity created by the constant patter of horse hoofs, ages ago. But tonight she needed that path. She had to revive it for her journey to Animas Fork, a ghost town in Colorado.
Just like its name, the approach route forked into random directions in an animated ballet of a mischievous elf. Driving up the path was like chasing Johnny across their 100 acre farm house. You never know, where the boy might turn, when he might turn or how he might turn.
And finally when Laura would huff and puff and shout in a labored breath that she gave up. Johnny would laugh and say, “See how I tricked you…this is how a Zebra’s stripes create a zigzag illusion, mummy!”
Laura laughed at the memory and soon tears trickled down her smiling face. She did not bother to wipe them away instead she slowed down. She willed time to slow down as well, willed that lifelike memory of Johnny to stay, wished she could live in that memory a thousand years. Johnny was gone, just one instant, one moment when she looked away, and he ran down the road chasing a kitten; one flash of the truck driver distracted by his buzzing phone. One life lost.
