“I’ll love you forever.” He pressed her fingers to his tear-stained
cheeks.

She pulled her hands away. “No more promises. That way, you can’t
break them.” She left without looking back.

Two years later, he saw her obituary in the newspaper. Only the moon
knows the vow he made, the first since they parted. To see her one
last time, perhaps? He never made it, dying in the flood that rose
that night.

They say you can sometimes still see him struggling through the mists,
bound by his last promise.

(Reply to flashxer prompt: “Trust you? Trust you? Of course I don’t
trust you. Once again you made me a promise you just can’t keep.”)