A girl sits by a lake and she is cold. She is listening for someone to tell her to come home. Listening for someone to tell her dinner is ready. For what seems like years, no one calls. How are you, asks the Wind. Fine, she says. The Wind kisses her knees and runs his fingers through her hair. It's almost dinner time, says the Wind, why are you still out? No one has called, she says. I will wait with you then, says the Wind.
And so they wait.
And he kisses her neck. Do you know how to swim? Yes. Do you want to swim. I don't have my suit. Oh.
And they wait.
And he holds her close in his cool embrace. Let me walk you home, dinner must be ready by now. We can't be certain.
And they wait.
Until finally the Wind picks her up. It's time to go. No one has called. No one will call. No one? No one.
I watch from the window to see Death on my porch. I gather my things and comb my hair. I stand behind the door waiting for something to happen. I hear a snicker and close my eyes. My hand is on the door knob now. The door bell's song plays through my house, joyfully bouncing off the walls. I open my eyes. The door bell's song reaches my ears and I turn the knob. The door is open, but the porch is empty. It was just another ding-dong ditch.
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