Back with another Friday picture prompt. Enjoy!

Albert stood beneath the tree, his umbrella open above his head. The rain had faded into a sprinkle and then a drizzle, but the droplets on the branches still continued to drip as Ken sat in the swing that dangled from the branch. The tree creaked and groaned while Ken swung back and forth at a gentle pace, the droplets shook loose and pattered against the top of Albert’s umbrella. They sat there in a cool reflective silence until Ken broke it.

“He loved to swing you know,” he said.

“Hmm,” Albert nodded. He looked towards Ken then out towards the cemetery. A light fog covered the ground drifting upwards as if it had risen from the earth itself. He looked at the swing again, and wondered who would install a swing in a cemetery of all places? Perhaps an annoyed mortician had it installed to distract the kids during such an emotionally rough time. Ken looked out of place, a full-grown man in a black suit sitting in the swing. The branch it hung from sagging from the weight of Ken, Albert wondered if it would snap, but he didn’t say anything.

“We’d go to the park every day after school,” Ken said. Albert could hear his brother fighting to hold back his tears. “We’d always go to the swings first. I’d always give him a big push, make him believe he could fly. He always wanted to fly.” Ken sniffed.

Albert took a moment before spoke. “He has wings now,” Albert said looking up towards the gray sky. “At least I like to think he does.”

The branch creaked faster and louder, Albert looked towards his brother. Ken’s swinging had grown higher, his feet were no longer touching the ground. Ken looked up through the branches towards the sky, he didn’t say anything. Albert wondered if he was trying to get closer to his son.

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