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My keen ears picked out someone strumming a guitar, and somewhat singing along. Somewhat put off for having someone else interfere in my meditative solitude, I turned to wade out of the lake. This lake, like every other one in this state is covered with a nice slimy film of algae on the rocky bottom. I gracefully turned, slipped, and landed ungracefully into the water with a loud curse and splash. I guess my splash and scream alerted my musician in the woods. When I emerged from under the green water, and unceremoniously swung my hair out of my face while uttering bawdy curses under my breath, I noticed someone standing on the shore, guitar strapped on his back, and a concerned look on his face. I walked out of the water looking like a drowned rat that had eaten some bad cheese. He offered me his hand to help me the rest of the way out of the water. A bold of electricity shot through my hand as he warmly grasped mine and pulled me out of the water. I looked up at him with a genuine. ” “Lying bitch.” She went back to her paper. A delivery van pulled up in front of the house. A young man opened the sliding door and pulled out a large box that looked like it was big enough hold a bag of golf clubs. He started for our porch. “What’s this?” Amy stood up. “Annie Malone?” the young man called out to us. “That’s me.” I stood up. He set the box down on the steps. It was silver-sheathed with a white satin bow. “I’ve got one more,” he said running back to his van. Amy was about to pull the card off the box. “Nosey slut,” I said as I snatched it from her. The deliveryman came back with a small shirt-box package that was also wrapped in silver and white. I signed for the packages hurriedly. “What’s it say?” Amy was trying to peer over my shoulder, and I kept turning to keep her away. In elegant cursive calligraphy, the card said this: Even in the briefest moment, eternity exists. “Well?” Amy pried. “It says thanks for the memories, but way classier.” I opened the big box and.
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