The weather right now is too warm to freeze the approaching body of water, and even if a mirage, I'm far too thirsty to not attempt the walk. The only thing that concerns me is the fact that winter is on its way and in the same direction as I am trying to get to the water up ahead. It doesn't take much too realize that winter can and will take huge strides towards the same goal I can only take baby steps towards. By the time I get there the water will be frozen. I will one again be standing, facing you, on the same unreliable patch of ice that tempts me to walk onto it without thought to check its stability or thickness.
We've stood on the ice once or twice before though, with the sun working hard on our side to hide away so we avoid sweating as much as we can. The more we sweat the quicker the ice melts away. The nerves strung inside our bodies that control our need to sweat are another story though. They seem to always override their systems and start sending paralyzing circuits sporadically up and down our already shivering bodies. Our core temperatures inch closer and closer to the 100 degree mark causing heat to radiate from the two of us. We avoid touching for obvious reasons. Beneath us is nothing new to us. It seemed to be where we have the most fun. The ice was always on a timer though, and the cracks that split the ice between our feet never seemed to follow the line of a clean break.
The chance of it shattering under our weight is the reason it has always been so appealing to us in the past and this time will be no different. If it were to splinter into tiny shards instead of breaking into pieces large enough to support our individual weight we would have access to the water we've been so desperately needing to stay alive. The bittersweet aspect of the situation we constantly find ourselves in is that the water needed to survive is beneath us but if we were to finally have the chance to reach it our lungs would freeze up and fail from the rapid intake of water flooding our systems. Our nerves would no longer short-circuit, our thirsts would be permanently sufficed, and our intertwined still beings would begin to descend and disappear into the water.
On the long and lonely walk to the water, with the winter sweeping over me, just like usual, I began to think about where you are, if you're as cold as I am, and about the past instances when I have been in this spot just to help me prepare for whichever outcome may occur. However, the last couple of feet until the waters edge made me curious to see just how long we could go without a drink and I started to hope for yet another jagged slice of ice to carry us off in opposite directions once again.
Seconds away from blindly stepping onto the ice, I pick up the pace and force my legs to run full speed. The sun has hinted to me that another crooked slab of frozen water will be mine, and your, next destination by stopping itself from rising at all for one time only. The wind that picked up and what seemed to be 24 hours of darkness halted the temperature at a low enough point to keep the water a solid. Full speed ahead and we will once again find out if our thirsts will finally be quenched or if we will be going another unknown amount of time floating in opposite directions until the next piece of land comes our way. Regardless though, I'm assuming, preparing, and expecting a long, secluded, thirsty trip ahead of us both. I never want to sink with you and I fear the shock of water hitting my tongue for the first time again in years. So for now, I hope the two of us float, until we blend in with opposite horizons just to experience the rush when the waves carry us both close enough to see each other in the distance once again.
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