Quiet Freedom
As spring returns, a man drifts between solitude and freedom, finding peace on the water. | March Flash Fiction Photo Prompt
The leaves unfolded: spring had finally come.
Daffodils bloomed, their yellow heads dotting the edges of the lake.
Willow trees mirrored their long branches in the water.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I left the paddle resting beside me.
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A smile formed on my lips. After months of gray city winters, I could finally welcome the return of the warm season.
I floated in the middle of the lake. All I could hear was the distant crying of the seagulls and the soft buzzing of the dragonflies.
As the sun started to withdraw behind the horizon, it left behind amber and gold reflections.
Suddenly, a faint wave washed against the sides of the kayak, lifting me in a gentle roll.
For a moment, everything went silent.
And it finally hit me.
This was not an escape, but quiet freedom.
