From my novel in progress, The Tears of Abraham
Sometimes, bad decisions change little beyond the moment, and a wrong turn is merely that– a left which should have been a right. Often, though, a bad choice builds momentum and mass and creates its own gravity and destructive physics until the present, future, and the past are distorted and corrupted. Loving the wrong woman is like that.
It’s the hunger of the stone seeking rock bottom. The splash and the inevitable descent and weight of consequence dragging and drowning the laughter of young dreams deeper and darker into the mud and the choking abyss of mediocrity, irrelevance, and then oblivion. The ripples on the surface of the waters have no memory.