湖/The lake

She has been here two days.

Just sunbathing and walking, not many people. The children were sitting on the rocks blowing bubbles. She heard laughter and turned around to find her face reflected on the edge of the transparent circle.

He walked with his head down. She followed silently, as if there were many strangers at a distance, or maybe there were none.

"Why don't you arrest him?" the police chief yelled, and the dust in the office suddenly became visible several times.

"I can't find him." She looked over her furious face at the particles floating in the dusk halo.

They are also life, right/I want to go out and watch the sunset/It’s getting dark soon...

"The informant said he saw you walking very close to him." The police chief said reluctantly.

She reluctantly looked away: "I don't want to arrest anyone by the lake."

It was a calm lake, a reprieve from the hot sunny summer days. She had been following him for more than 48 hours. He always sat on a stone by the lake and stared at the ducks in a daze. She found a stone in the shade and sat on it to cool off. She stared at the children who disobeyed their parents and liked to play in the water.

So they were scared away by the sister with fierce eyes.

He laughed for no reason and looked up to see her expressionless face as she was about to pop the bubble.

Discovered? Not wanting to create eye contact, she quickly turned away.

"Don't come here! Don't jump! Ah!"

The screams cut through the splashing water, and she thought she would lose all her oxygen in the next second. Why is the sun getting further and further away? Am I smiling? She thought of the chair that the priest left for her, the girl who was painting upstairs at three o'clock in the afternoon, and reading novels under the scorching sun until the world turned strange green. What color is the world? The lake was surprisingly supportive and she slowly floated up. I owe the God of Death another favor.

The police chief pulled her up from the lakeside and asked, "Where is he?" The water droplets passed through her hair and scratched her lips. How could the sun be so dazzling? It was a terrible sunny day. She was lying on the blue stone bricks, and the ground was as cold as the stones in those days. Her movements were like freeze frames in a movie, her eyes rolling towards the sparkling

lake.

"So the murderer escaped?" Criminology students asked curiously when she gave a lecture at the school.

She pursed her lips and smiled, and the memory of that summer was engraved in the off-white leather shoes that she sometimes walked and sometimes stayed on, making a beautiful "tap-tat" sound as she walked.

Water plants wrap around the wrists stained with oil paint, and a young woman's body is sealed under the lake.

"It's the moon." "Huh?" She crushed the soft soil under her feet and covered a small section of her broken finger. Rainy days are not necessarily lovely either. Several bright red mushrooms sprouted from the rocks above the soil, like bloodshot oozing out from the skin after being cut along the texture.

She put on her black leather shoes, leaned alone against an ancient tree by the lake, and opened her album. Each page was filled with blues of different saturations.

Colorful bubbles surrounded her and floated to the other side of the sky.