i sit on a rock and envision my afternoon in the stream.
i will walk into this stream until the water reaches my thighs. i will carefully scoop up water in my cupped hands and pour it onto the sensitive parts of my body. i will adapt to the coolness of the water so that it doesn’t hurt when i go in above my waist and above my chest.
i will wade in the water for an as of yet undetermined length of time. i will live with the fish even though i am afraid of fish. i will swim in the green water until i am blue.
the rock i am sitting on is hot from the sun and i can smell my skin as it cooks. i didn’t bring a bathing suit and i am embarrassed about swimming in my underwear. i stay on the rock until the sun goes down instead. my skin returns to normal.
i find a dead fox while walking back to my car. the fox did not die of natural causes. the fox has been speared through its mid-section on a sharp tree branch. unless this fox was running really, really fast and then leapt into the air and happened to fall (very unluckily) onto this branch, there was foul play.
i am sad because i like foxes. i like how they walk. they seem to always be gliding. one less fox in this world makes me one less amount of being happy. i am at about 9 happies now. i don’t remember how many i started with. but i have 9 to last me for the rest of my life.
i should just kill myself when the last happy runs out.
i wonder if i can gain happies. maybe if i witness a fox giving birth i will be able to cancel out the last happy that i lost.
what am i talking about.
dead foxes aren’t scary, but dead fish are. never buy me a dead fish. not even a live goldfish. take me camping. take me fishing. take the reel when i get a bite so that i don’t see the dying fish. that would make me the happiest.
until, you know, i kill myself.