Afternoon on the lake...

Hot July afternoon on the lake. Children jumping off the dock, orange floaties pushed high on arms. Sunscreen bottles overturned. Glasses of lemonade, no ice—just condensation beading up on the outside, leaving puddles behind. The water was refreshing to bodies sun-bathed, no breeze. Crisp and cool, she lowered herself down from the ladder wrung by wrung, slowly adjusting. Feet, legs, and torso, dipping her head back into the water and smoothing her hair with her hands as she came up. She began to relax—a reprieve from the dry heat of the dock. She kicked her feet slightly to keep afloat. Moments later, out of the murky lake water, came a nip at her foot so startling she speedily re-climbed each wrung—torso, legs, and feet—back to the safety of the dock.

I was the water. You were the fish.