Darkness cloaked Eva’s brain as her shaky hands turned her steering wheel down the gravel drive. Rolling down the window, she welcomed the cool breeze, the smell of sweet grass. She nodded at the ranchers, who tipped their hats. They knew her around here; she wasn’t really predisposed to long conversations. Not with humans anyway.
She stood on the bottom rung of the wooden fence. Maisy clomped over, a beautiful, gleaming black mare. She rested her forehead against Maisy’s face, letting her breath match hers until the fog lifted.
“Maisy – you always know just what to say!”
Maisy snorted and Eva laughed.
For Sunday Photo Fiction.