l a k e

NOTE: THIS STORY IS RATED "MATURE" FOR STRONG LANGUAGE, SCENES OF VIOLENCE, AND (POSSIBLY) EMOTIONALLY DISTURBING MOMENTS.

There is a lake. The lake is small. Almost a pond, but not quite. A narrow cement walkway encompasses the water, embracing its near constant rippling. The warm rays of golden five o'clock evening light offer little comfort as I stare out over the water's collected surface. Beneath me is a beautifully carved rosewood bench with black wrought-iron arms and legs; strong and supportive. Always there for me when I need to sit, head in hands, unkempt, shaggy blond hair falling over disgraced, dirty blue eyes -- eyes that that sting as a single tear drips slowly down my burning nose, over my flushed, right cheek.

Meet Dawson. Read his story. Discover that life isn't always perfect. And that happy endings don't always exist.