It's the first week back to school...
Me: Good to see you! How are you doing!?
Her: I'm good. How are you?
Me: You know, it's nice to be back.
Her: Where are your shoes?
Me: I took them off so my socks can dry by the time I bike home.
Her: Hmm....You look a little under the weather.
Me: Really? I feel pretty healthy. What makes you say that?
Her: Your eyes look bruised.
Off a rock, somewhere near treeline, a pair of feet dangle in the sharp, crisp clear water of a lake. They see stars and storms, the sun and sheer rock walls. They'll stay there, lingering always a moment too long, forever risking safe passage home. In the winter they'll dance in snow, in the spring amongst wildflowers, lady pink and bee yellow. Inevitably, when from behind the mountain thunder shatters the cloudless sky, they'll shake themselves awake and attempt a quick dash down. But when the storm passes and the sun shines through the lake's wind-blown ripples to trace shadows on the pebbles below, they'll always find themselves there, dangling.