Rawson Lake; photo: Jack Ng
It was their last day by the lake. The weather was perfect and the air was so crisp it squeaked. She inhaled deeply, savoring every moment. By that time tomorrow she’d be stuck in rush-hour traffic.
“See?” he pointed. “Even wood can’t keep its head above water at some point.”
She snuck a hand into his and squeezed. She wished she could give him sips of this place during what was to come. She wished she could tell him this round wouldn’t be as difficult as the ones before. That this one would work. She didn’t know if to hope or fear it being the last. It shattered her that she no longer knew what he hoped for.
She gathered the light around her, kissed his baldness, and rose to stand.
“For now, my love, let’s float.”
For What Pegman Saw: Rawson Lake Canada