Weeping Waterfalls

Weeping Waterfalls

The large rocks made way for the smaller stones and then the pebbles on
the small cliff edging down to the riverbank. White water rushed past
the fallen logs and raced towards the waterfall far beyond my horizon.
The sound of the rushing water was a constant splash against the smooth
white rocks, and the sunlight reflected off of the river in several
spectrums.
A tall lean man in a smart suit quietly emerged from behind one of the
tall redwood trees in the forest. He put his briefcase down and
cautiously climbed onto one of the large boulders, slipping a little on
the wet moss. He looked down towards the sound of the waterfall and
then back down at the rushing water below. Slowly he took off his shoes
and socks and rubbed his bare feet against the cold slimy soft moss as
though he had never felt it before. As the sun moved directly overhead,
he began to remove his jacket, careful to get his footing on the
slippery rock. He crouched down onto the large rock, at first looking
upset when he got his trousers wet, and then with a look towards the
distant waterfall he sat right down on the wet rock. He put a hand up
and rubbed his fingers through his neatly trimmed hair and then began
to methodically throw loose stones into the water below. Drop splash
drop splash. After some time he stood up again on his rock and looked
towards the waterfall. As the man closed his eyes there was a movement
in the bushes behind him. He slowly turned, careful with his footing,
and looked towards the bushes. Suddenly he crouched down on the rock,
visibly weeping and climbed down off of it. He stood down on the ground
for some time and composed himself. He then put his socks and shoes
back on, picked up his briefcase and jacket and walked back into the
woods.