I hope you’re liking the story so far.
It’s fun to write, yet, challenging at the same time.
Bigalow handed her a towel, and again, Hannah was surprised that he’d thought to bring one along. But he remained quiet.
She sat on the picnic rug and appreciated the silence as memories flooded her. Memories of the many Sundays her parents had taken her to Bigalow Creek where they’d spent most of the day, often playing in the water or going for bushwalks, later on they’d brought their new dog along as well. They’d always had so much fun and a wave of warmth washed through her as she remembered those days.
Staring at him, she repeated, “Bigalow Creek. Just like your name.”
He gave her a wink.
Absentmindedly, she looked around at their picnic and a sudden surge of familiarity hit her. She reached for one of the sandwiches. It was plain with just some butter and vegemite on it, just like her mother used to do. The drinking bottle contained apple juice.
She stared at him again. “So,” she hesitated then commented, “You’re not a ghost.”
Inhaling a long breath, she took in the scenery around her. “What are you then?”
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