Fresh Baked Bread (cottagecore)

An Evening Near the Swamp

The sun rests upon the horizon, embracing the land in a warm light, The Henry and Callum sit at the edge of a dock, their pinkies linked together, dipping their toes in the lukewarm water.  Their fishing poles sat vacant against a nearby tree. Their bucket of bait sat empty next to them. 

The sounds of the bayou filled their ears. Crickets chirped and cicadas hummed. Frogs croaked as though they were part of a choir. The air was warm and humid, but comfortably so. The sun shines on their faces, highlighting Callum's freckles and coating their skin with a gentle sunburn.

Henry opened up their sunbleached red cooler and pulled out two off-brand colas, dripping with condensation. He handed one to Callum and opened his soda quietly. they sat in comfortable silence. Thoughtless smiles lit up their faces.

Quaint little houses on stilts lined the swamp's edge. The shingles of their roofs were close to falling off, holding on only by the moss that grew between them. Planters brimming with colorful flowers decorate the wrap-around porches and white molded window sills. Clotheslines were strung about, each of which covered with floral sheets and beautiful clothing.

Frogs dart to the surface of the murky water to catch the little bugs that skate upon it. The sound of people laughing fills the air in a distant echo. The moss hanging from the tree sways in a tiny breeze. The sweltering sun is hardly broken by the wind, but the sound of it rustling in the trees provides a sort of subconscious comfort to the boys on the dock.

The night fell around them before they even noticed. The gentle silence they sat within was complemented by the warmth of the air. The stars above them were like the fabric of a deep blue ball gown, embellished in sequins and glitter. The universe seemed to bend around them, cradling them in a deep contentment. Every decision they had ever made had led to this point, and that was okay.