Fears and wishes
They drove to a place known just to them. Outside of town, beyond the county line. There, the only sound was from a big river. The sound of water, churning.
Every last thing, it was there: her fears, her wishes, all of them. There, as symbols. Symbolized with caramel and blue bottles set in a deliberate row.
So many smoothed-into-round river rocks to choose from. Along the river's edge. She wasted few and every fear and every wish, she knocked down.
Driving back, the car was free from the river's sounds. Hushed. They said nothing. Then he spoke, "You have a good arm. But I still don't get why the wishes."
He continued, and pressed. "I mean, wishes? They're not like fears y'know. They're harmless. Nice to have. An entirely harmless thing, a wish."
He was preaching now. She hit the gas, filling the car with sound from the motor. "Harmless. That's what they all say," she sniffed, looking dead ahead, up the road.