“That’s what we’re going with?” She considers. “Sure. That puddle of sweat looked spiritual to me.”
“I was releasing toxins.”
“Through suffering?”
“That’s one way to look at it.”
She bumps her shoulder against my arm as we walk, the contact brief. “Wait until Annemarie decides to host goat yoga.”
“Goat yoga?”
“Yeah, the one with baby goats that climb on your back.”
I blink at her. “That’s… a thing?”
“Oh, yes.” Her grin widens. “And I think you’d look good covered in goats.”
We continue to meander through the park and to a walking path that leads to the clearing she’s been practicing in. For a long time, we don’t speak. The world feels… quiet. Safe, even. Like maybe Willow Creek itself is holding its breath.
She breaks the silence first. “You ever think about how small moments like this don’t feel real? Like we’re inside something that’s going to fade when we blink?”
“Then don’t blink.”
She smiles. “You can’t hold on to everything forever, Flint.”
“No, but I can hold this one.” I reach out and take her hand. For just a second, I wonder if she’s remembering more. The way her pupils seem to flare, her eyes wide, lips parting… it’s like recognition is trembling at the edge.
“Sometimes you say things and it feels like deja vu.”
“Doesn’t everyone get that?”
She doesn’t answer.
There’s a little bridge where the trail curves, wood worn smooth from years of footsteps. Ash leans against the railing, looking down at the water. Fireflies have started to appear, tiny sparks decorating the trees.
“It’s so peaceful here,” she murmurs. “Feels like the world has forgotten to be cruel for five minutes.”
“That’s probably why you like it.”
She glances up at me, eyes soft. “You think I need peace that badly?”
“I think youdeserveit that badly.”
The teasing expression fades from her face, replaced by something quiet. Vulnerable. For a moment, neither of us speak. Just the sound of the creek and of night things coming awake.
Then she sighs, breaking the silence. “You always say things like that.”
“Like what? Didn’t we just have a cryptic conversation like this?”
“We did.” She grins, but it doesn’t last long. “Like you’ve known me forever.”
“Maybe I have.” My heart begins to race in my chest.
She studies me for a heartbeat too long. “You always do that, too.”
“Do what?”
“Say things that sound like riddles and then act like you didn’t mean anything by them.”
