I open my eyes after an uneasy sleep.  In the haze between being asleep and being awake, I couldn’t remember where I was or why.  I soon realize I’m in my apartment.  Normal.  I check my clock.  It’s 10:30 a.m.  Normal.  I look beside me and find no one there.  Normal.  So why do I feel so tense?

            “Hey, come on!”  Reagan called, running barefoot towards the lake. 

            Struggling to get on my flip-flops, I followed suit, “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

            The lake glistened in the sun but upon further inspection, it was easy to notice the murk and weeds underneath the pristine exterior.  Reagan hastily dropped her towel and sunglasses on the ground as I carefully took off my flip-flops, laying my towel and sunscreen neatly next to Reagan’s pile.

            “Is it cold?” I asked.

            “Come and find out!” Reagan screamed as she plunged into the water.

            I rolled my eyes in amusement.  Reagan was always the crazy one.

            I look into the mirror as I brush my teeth, unsure of what I have to do today.  Am I working?  Maybe I go to school?  I spit and rinse it down the drain.  The sink looks dirty though, so I splash some water around and am pleased with the dust and gunk flowing down into oblivion.  It’s then that I hear a knock.

            “Be right there!”  I call.  Maybe this person is my friend and will know what I’m supposed to be doing right now.  I swish around some mouthwash, but when I spit, I notice all the grime had returned.  Instead of cleaning, I turn away, my stomach churning.  It’s just a dirty sink.  I can always clean it later, right?

            Someone knocks again, this time longer and louder.  I feel angry as I exclaim, “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

            I rush into the bedroom and put a pair of socks on.  I never liked walking around barefoot.

            As I open the door, I’m surprised to see Reagan.

            We were splashing around like silly little girls in the lake once I was brave enough to submerge.  Laughing and out of breath, we treaded the water when Reagan’s gaze focused on something behind me.

            “What?” I said smiling.

            When Reagan didn’t respond, I panicked, “What?  What is it?”

            Reagan let a sly smile form on her lips, “Stop freaking out.  I have a good idea.  Follow me!”  As Reagan swam back to shore, I was just glad nothing was behind me, so I followed her obediently.

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About Danielle Watkins


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Danielle graduated with an English/Creative Writing degree that got her nowhere but applied for two mfa graduate programs despite her better judgement. Writing is a hobby right now, but Danielle hopes to incorporate the craft into her career (emphasis on "hopes"). She currently has a piece published in volume...read more five of Barking Sycamores, so she can at least say she has one piece published. When not dreaming about becoming a published author, Danielle enjoys reading literature (well, mostly teen dystopian novels, let's be real here), watching nerdy TV shows, and singing some classic Justin Timberlake. If she had the soaring, operatic voice of a European soprano, Danielle would be the singer of a female-fronted symphonic metal band, but she's an alto and is probably more the choir type.
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