“Damn. My sweetheart is going to leave.”
Her own eyes grew watery as she looked over just as Astrid’s firm arms levered her sleek shape out of the water. She saw the water flowing, trickling, running down her arms, her chest, her legs. As Shell gazed, saltier water of her own began to trickle. As those svelte yet muscled legs walked her way, steamy vapors began to shroud the woman’s body, her footprints to evaporate the instant they formed.
Her first love was a walking, luminous lesson. “My glorious witch is dissolving.” Through that shimmering window, like a tiny gravitational lens, Shell saw, magnified, the group of girls they’d recently inspected. They were sitting now on the edge of the diving platform, holding hands and swinging legs.
During a mere second or two of real time, Shell
