The water was whatever color the sky was, but greener, and the trees were black.
Memories, like the shadows of trees, wash over me as we walk. She tells me about her dog, boyfriend and the house they're building. I tell her about my rabbit, books and more books, the ones im reading and want to read, as if they matter. We're so different and the same, when she talks it reminds me of the way I talk. She'll talk about anything except her job or instagram, and I can hardly talk about anything important without the cold wind laying its icy hands on my throat, both metaphorically and literally, but she doesn't seem to mind the silences.