The carousel music dragged
through the park like a
half-forgotten lullaby.
He stood by the ticket
booth, watching the
painted horses rise and
fall, empty saddles
creaking in the dusk.
She'd always chosen the
white one, the one with
the chipped ear.
He bought a ticket
anyway, rode the white
horse alone, gripping the
cold pole. The lights
flickered on, amber and
gold, casting his shadow
long across the platform.
A child waved from the
fence, and for a
second, he waved back,
before remembering who he
was waiting for.
She said she'd meet me
here. She never said
when.
He rode twice more, then
the ride stopped. The
operator shrugged, closing
the gate. He stayed on
the horse, listening to
the music wind down, the
park emptying around him.
The last light left the
sky, and the carousel's
painted eyes stared past
him, patient and blank.