She stood by the lake, watching the water gently hit the shore. Wandering down to a dock, she sat down on the wooden slats. She removed her heels, rolled up her slacks and stuck her feet into the cool water. Okay, so the cold water. She flicked her feet, splashing some water up onto her legs, and creating ripples in the lake. The ringlets branch out, and she smiled to herself.
If life were a TV show or a movie, the guy would have been standing on the hill, looking down at her on the dock. Then he would have either a) approached her or b) turned away, looking tortured.
This wasn't a movie or show, though, and she sat there alone. Which, ironically, was just fine by her. She had a book, and the water and the occasional duck for company.
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