The leaves of the bent tree brushed across the rippling mirror of the lake. The wind gently stirred the thin branches. It was like a painting, the calm at the heart of a storm.
Adam approached, feeling with each step that he was intruding, conscious of the war that sounded like thunder in his heart.
An old man came to greet him, face wrinkled in intricate patterns.
“Welcome,” the man said.
“I’m looking for…” Adam paused. What was it he was searching for?
“It’s all right,” the man said. “I know. You can stay as long as you want.”
Word Count: 99
This is for Friday Fictioneers. Big thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and CEAyr for providing the prompt photo!