We sat by the moist land near the rushing river.
Her gold necklace mocked us from below—the current never dragging it away from our view. It had a sentimental value to her—given by her stepfather. I suddenly trembled.
“I am afraid to get it,” she said “the water seems cold. It might freeze my hand.”
“I will try.” But she grabbed my wrist.
“Do not! You might go with the current!”
I slowly detached my wrist from her hold and averted my eyes to the river. “But what if I want to?”
And, then, it was quiet.
WORD COUNT: 98
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