A Sudden Outpouring

The old man said his pockets were heavy with ghosts.

“How do you deal with them?” Coyote asked. The old man scratched his nose, his neck, pulled his earlobe.

“Once a year, I head out to the falls and empty them into the rushing water.”

Coyote furrowed his brow. Frowned a little, wasn’t sure he understood. “I’m not sure I understand?”

“I pull out my pockets. Shake them out over the rushing waters. Say something like a little prayer, but one without words. Watch them drift away, and down.”

“And that works?”

“For a little while,” the old man said.

Prompt courtesy of Sue Vincent’s #writephoto.