Bottle

“How do I know if I’ll see you again?”

“You won’t”

What if we decided not to share contact information, a point of connection? What a way to live. Never knowing if the spark will rekindle. Maybe that’s the excitement to it. The not knowing. If the figure is there the next time around.

It was a beautiful handwritten letter. Layer by layers of textured paper, that was rolled, tied with string, and tossed to the sea. A glass bottle never intended to be received…

A moment in time lost in capsule.

It drifted further and further out, its distance further away. What was written in the contents? Who was the intended recipient? What was the story behind it?… Simply a memory. Lost. Gone. Strangers once more.

She brushed over her shoulder with a smile, it wasn't a big deal. It generally wasn’t with her. She was able to make him feel at ease whenever he already felt bad. When things were a big deal it was for good reason, she would get upset but was still kind. He found it cute. Sometimes he liked seeing her a little angry just because of that, but he tried to make things better. Because even though he wanted her to feel all kinds of emotions, he wanted her to be safe and comfortable with him, and with herself.

Surf's up. Indication that waves are high and approaching.

To him, the adrenaline of the danger and the beauty of the seconds. Touching the drips of water landing against skin, standing on the board in the seconds of high tide where it lasted. It was the second closest feeling to flying. To sail across the sky and look down on the scenes below. To ride with the waves…

There was a cliff, that lead to the lake below. She raced ahead of him, jumping into the waters below.