9/18/17
It was about to hop
No road trip. August came across a dead frog in the garden and has decided it’s a portent of danger.
“August, it was probably just a cat.”
“No, it was not a cat. The frog was sitting, as though it were about to hop, but died instead.”
“Ok, I guess that is weird. What do you think it means?” We were in the kitchen, I swirled coffee in my cup. A heavy dread settled in my chest.
“Frogs are generally omens of death.”
“You’re already dead.”
“But you aren’t.”
It’s been days and I can’t shake the twitch of anticipation from my bones.
Today I drew The Moon for him, us. I guess we’ll have to live with this mystery, for now.
