I remember when we picked stones and threw it across the lake.
I remember when the stones would jump for a while before reaching the bottom of the lake, like I did when you went and got yourself killed.
I remember the shape of the stones, flat but smooth, matching the tone of your voice as you aimed and let go.
I remember the ripples created in the water by your tactful throw, like the waves that washed through my heart when I heard your piercing scream.
I remember the look in your eyes before you aimed, full of life and adventure. The same look haunted me when you crashed, because, my darling, I’d rather remember you like that.
I remember me, watching you in pure awe. Now, my face echoes with all the memories we created by that wretched lake.
I remember the lake the most. I remember how it gave you life on bright summer mornings. I remember how it gave you death on that one cold winter night.