Every day she sits, sits in that chair, waiting.
The heat hung heavy that day, making their brows bead up in drops of sweat just stepping out into it. A perfect day for some water play and cooling off. Burying their feet together in the shallow water, captivated by the magic of the moment, laughter ringing the air.
Just one moment was all it took. Not even the sound of a splash, and her world disappeared into the murky depths.
Now, each day she sits and she waits. Waits for a sign. Waits for a miracle. Waits for what never can be.
*** This prompt courtesy of Rochelle Wiscoff-Fields and the Friday Fictioneers. Respond to the prompt in 100 words or less, and check out other participants’ submissions as well.***