Prompt: A friend becomes something less.
We used to drive that short distance to the well
when Papa took the car and went far away.
I walked much further than I ever had felt
to get to the same place,
empty bucket swinging by side,
rubbing against my leg.
That same source, which we drank from until
we noticed it was running out.
Less water every day.
We needed a new well.
March 3
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