My school friend still hides out and drinks beer, but like me and the story of the woman, he is 35 now, so he should not have to hide. He's drowning too. The first girl I loved became sad, so sad that she didn't care anymore for folklore. She moved to the mountains to try to find a cure. People drown all the time, it seems.
Some people drown and still wake up every morning.
There was another with whom I walked the lake. My last story-sharer, the second girl I loved. I took her to the far side not long after we met. Told her about the woman, a simple version I liked to tell myself. Beautiful woman, broken heart, madness, drowning in colors.