You’re gonna regret it.” I waved away the warning without turning around. “What was to regret? I took the shortcut.” I was on my way to a picnic. The table sat on the other side of a marsh. The parks department had kindly constructed a bridge over the marsh. But who needed a bridge?
I ventured in. The mud swallowed my feet. Squiggly things swam past me. I think I saw a set of eyeballs peering in my direction. I backpedaled, flip-flops sucked into the abyss. I exited, mud-covered, mosquito-bitten, and red-faced. I walked over and took my seat at the picnic table.
Made for a miserable picnic, but makes for an apt proverb. Life comes with voices, and voices lead to choices, and choices have consequences.
