Bottle

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

“You won’t”

Not sharing contact information, a point of connection. What a way to live. Maybe that’s the excitement to it. Not knowing if she’ll be there the next time I’m 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.

As the bottle drifted further and further out, its distance further and further away. What was written in the contents? What was the story that was told?… It was all lost, gone. Memories. Strangers now.

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 angry but she was 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. An indication that waves are high and approaching.

There was a cliff, that lead to the lake below. It wasn't meant for surfing. But he loved surfing, the adrenaline of the danger and the beauty of the waves. Touching the drips of water landing against skin, standing up on the board in the seconds of high tide where it lasted. It was the closest feeling to flying. To sail across the sky and look down on the scenes below. To ride with the waves…

She raced ahead of him, jumping into the waters below.