freedom.floats
Freedom floats, and my mind secedes.
I wish I were as gorgeous as her. Her whole body is this long plank of white wood, smooth finish. Her hair follows her like seaweed, red, blonde and brunette floating behind her.
“Freedom! How do you feel about sushi?” I guess someone else saw the seaweed analogy too. She doesn’t even look up though, her ears underwater. She’s probably too busy listening to the roar of the lake.
Half my body is underwater, standing there watching Freedom. I wade out a little closer; all I want to do is touch her. I pretend I’m a shark preying on a beautiful dolphin. Freedom pays no mind to me, so I go a little closer. In my head, I hum the Jaws theme. Dun dun. Dun dun. Dun dun. Dun dun dun dun dun dun. She doesn’t look up.
“Freedom!!” Someone screams from behind me and I turn to look, slowly. It’s the same guy as before, this bum with a hard body and bathing suit tan. He’s absolute trash, just garbage; he could be homeless if it weren’t for the nice clothes and perfect smile. I want to bite him with my shark teeth, just rip right through him.
She doesn’t hear him, and I go back to my preying. I want to lunge at her at the exact right time; I’m sure she’d laugh. We’d giggle and splash each other and then go in for sushi. I imagine that douche of a boyfriend accidentally lays down in poison ivy, so he has to go home and rub calamine lotion over his body. His putrid, handsome body. Freedom is close, so close, and she doesn’t even sense how close I am. She just lays there so still, so beautiful. Her skin has always reminded me of porcelain, of glass; I want to feel each warm section of her body with my lips. So instead of lunging I stay quiet until I am right next to her. I kiss her soft, smooth shoulder and swoon when I do. It is everything I wanted and hoped for. She doesn’t move, still, and that’s when I realize she’s dead.
I don’t understand why, and she still looks so perfect. Her skin is warm from lying out in the sun. She must have just died, because she still smells like shampoo. I kiss her chest, her neck, her cheek. I want to grab and have every part of her. I love her. I loved her and now she’s gone.
“What’s up with Freedom?” he screams, clearly worried. I don’t want my moment to end with her, but he just won’t leave us alone. “We’re talking!” I yell back, “Girl stuff!” I’m sure that’ll keep him away. And me and Freedom, we go back to sharing our love.