a whisper in the wind | ✓

eight

THERE'S SOMETHING KALEIDOSCOPIC ABOUT THE RIVER.

Enchanting even, in the tranquility it provides as smooth blue-green ripples roll away from the paddles of the boat. Speckled with white water lilies, gold and red koi fish swirl in the water, their velvet silver fins swaying under the surface. Two pink young does stumble from the trees before making their way to the river for a sip of its iridescent charm. Then, a pair of small yellow rabbits, who dart across the marigold grass as they chase each other. Color, color, color. There's just so many splashes of color that a happy warmth expands in my chest with each breath — a sense of peace from the brutal burden of normalcy.

It's just Clark, me, and this mind-fucking, aesthetically-pleasing, psychedelic universe.

I've never been on a date before (that is, if yesterday doesn't count). Hell, I've never even found myself alone with a boy I've been attracted to. But if this was a date, I think this would definitely dethrone every other date known to mankind.

Turning around in the boat, my eyes lock onto the sky as I see magenta light hugging the jagged curves of the mountains. "We should hurry. The sun will start setting soon."

Clark stays quiet for a moment as if he's contemplating whether or not to speak up. "And... if we miss the bridge? Would staying here be so bad?"

His words catch me by surprise, and not a second passes before my thoughts automatically come rambling out, "Yes, it would. We can't stay here forever."

"Why not? It's nice here."

"Clark!"

"What? I'm serious."

I gesture to everything around us — the trees, the sky, the fox in our boat. "This isn't reality; reality is across that bridge. We don't even belong here. This is just a pause in our lives. You know, a fermata in the concerto, a red light in the traffic."

"Aw, you're so poetic, Karina." He continues to row the boat, the sarcastic smile on his face being the last thing I expected to come from this serious conversation.

"Clark, I swear to God I will push you off this boat."

I have to go back.

Shards of anxiety dig into the marrow of my bones as the truth of my situation comes crashing down on me. Coming to Eventyde Island has done nothing except remind me of my austere lifestyle back home. Nothing has changed in Cleveland, and nothing will change on its own. If the epiphany to my solution won't come, then I'll have to make one myself.

"You have to finish vet school," I explain with a frown. "And I... well, I don't really know what I'm doing. But staying here would mean running away from my problems — which I guess I technically am."

I know running away won't solve anything, but what if Clark and I do stay? What would our lives look like then? Like puppet strings, my family's expectations still hold me hostage, no matter how badly I want to snip them off. A future here in this strangely beautiful universe is hazy, and I can't imagine one right off the bat.