The wrong turn home.

Dear you,

I took the wrong exit on the way home from work and found the little lake I used to visit after school. I had not been there in nineteen years. The parking meter was new. The ducks seemed much the same.

I meant to stay five minutes. I sat on a bench until my tea went cold. A child nearby was trying to persuade a duck to come home with her. Her father appeared to be considering it.

I was late for nothing in particular. I keep thinking about that. I have driven back twice since, using the correct wrong exit.