Baby Bottle

“Why the sulk?” she said.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“Are you nervous?”

“I’m fine,” I said, again.

The small, grey-colored fishes popped and zigzagged in the clear water of the lake.

“We’re doing the right thing.”

I did not assure her of this.

“Okay, not right but..,” she continued.

I clearly saw the movement of the fishes below, their restless yet serene crisscrossings.

“It is true, you, err, we thought it over, but…”

The soft, formless pleats of water remained awhile, before the next fish’s path cut them into a mini whirlpool. It was fun watching their break-free, zany sport.

She held my hand to draw my attention.

“Yeah, whatever.”

The smooth patterns that formed and un-formed on the water surface held me in a trance. The clip-clop of their tepid movements was the only sound that punctuated the silence.

“I think we should drop the idea.”

I saw the trick. Damn her.

“Maybe we’re not ready yet.”

Ah, the mild stab at my ego.

Silence. Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Silence.

Her eyes bored into the side of my head. More to unscrew my skull and rewire my mind than to discern my thoughts.


I saw her in the water, looking ahead now. A smirk playing on her face. No, it was the vibrating water surface. I’m not sure.

She’s smiling knowingly.

Fishes had swum to the other parts of the lake. Warm or cold waters? I’m not sure.

A white plastic bottle floated up at the bank and plonked on the pebbled shore.

“We must hurry.”

She knew I would go eventually.

I walked up to the white plastic bottle. Turning it in my hands, I straightened out the misshapen nipple on its end.

She’d already picked her bags and turned to go.

“Come on!”

I binned the bottle and, along with it, the pair of one-way tickets to someplace afar.

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