The Dock
2005-11-12 - 11:52 p.m.

This dock has seen better days. Its wooden planks are warped and splintered. They are barely hanging on. Even the water seems to run more slowly beneath it, somehow cognizant of its fragility. Each time it laps beneath it, it seems to whisper, “Move carefully,” and the water adheres to its own command.

Two figures sit on the dock, one broad and masculine, one delicate and feminine. They sit close, but not touching. Sometimes, the boy will extend his hand toward the girl, and then she will look in his direction, and he will pull away, blushing at his own forwardness. The girl will blush too. Sometimes, she will give a small smile and say something, usually about the weather, or the pond, or the dock. He will respond in a voice crackling with nerves, and she will giggle as if he has said something terribly witty, and then they will both fall silent. She wants to tell him that she sees his hand, and that it is ok to touch her. Instead, she talks about the dock.

They do not know that this will be the last time they talk about the dock. Their other topic, the weather, will see to that.

Tonight, there is a storm, and it strikes a tree near the girl's house. The tree burns, and so does the house. The father and brother escape without injury. The mother is visiting her mother, and is ironically given life twice by the same woman. The girl sleeps soundly. She does not wake up to the sirens, or the alarms. She is finally awoken by the beam that pins her to her bed. Her body is saved, but not before it parts ways with her soul.

The boy sits on the dock the next day, and he cries. The dock just sits. He thinks about her, and how she smiled and how she laughed, and wishes he had touched her hand, tiny and ivory against the weathered wood. He wishes he had leaned toward her, tilted her head, kissed her lips.

The boy becomes a man, and the dock gives into the ravages of time. Its planks, once broad and strong, finally splinter and swim in the lake. The world forgets about the dock, except one man who only wishes there was more to remember.