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stringed instruments. The melody is something that refuses to resolve into happiness. As each individual firework dissipates and dies, the song celebrates their descent into nonexistence. Standing at the edge of the lake is a young man who bears some resemblance to the stranger, dressed in a formal robe with a collar that rises to meet his chin. She is walking up to him. She must not disturb him. She must not even place a supportive hand on his shoulder. He is meant to be alone, and all she can do is stand behind him and wait for the moment in which he strides forward without her, or collapses backward into her arms. Her eyes snap open. She does not know the source of her surge to alertness, only that she is sitting up, the blanket falling off her. Her  |
companion is on his back, mouth dumbly open and snoring. The fire has died to nearly nothing, save a few sputtering sparks. The moon has lone gone and stars have spilled into the sky to take its place. On the opposite shore, the crags and trees and hill have become a single soaring shadow. The surface of the lake is black and immense, and completely still. There is not a trace of wind. Over by the beached boat, the stranger stands at the water's edge, his back to her. She rises quietly, not wishing to disturb him, wanting to witness whatever will happen next without being noticed. The stranger stretches his arms absently, and tilts his head from side to side. He has dropped his coat and boots in a heap at his feet, leaving him dressed only in shirt, pants, and bunched-up  |
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