All I wanna admit in public is I stood at the headwaters and without thinking, I reached down and wet my fingers in the gushing flow. It was only when I tasted the sweetly bitter water that I realized who stood behind me.
Chuckling.
Because everything was going just how he knew it would go and in the timing it would [tangle/unravel].
He asked me what was I tasting from but I could not answer. My fingertips were still stuck in my mouth lest I complete the transgression and accrue the proper debt.
He chuckled again, knowing that I was caught right. “You know, the stone around this spring is cracked and broken…”
The phrase reminded me of a thing and I lost my fear of him. Whirling around, I wanted to verbally confront him but my fingertips were still stuck fast.
He smiled. The wrinkles around his clouded eye deepened and smiled coldly. “One could say since the roots of the spring go in so many directions, one could call it the Well of All Things.”
My anger fled as the memories triggered by that name flooded my awareness. I shook my head in soft denial.
He tipped his hat in a mute farewell, turned, and left me standing alone on the fog crowned hill.