One Morning Ride

by Igor Zenin

A family rides a horse cart dressed with fresh-cut branches down a dirt road, cows grazing loose in the fog on either side, nobody in any particular hurry to get where they're going. It's an ordinary Moldovan morning commute that hasn't changed shape in a hundred years — a horse still knows the way better than any road sign. The mist doesn't burn off until well after they've already gone through it.