by R.C. Neighbors
The July sun burned my back as I paused on the dock and watched the gentle breeze rippling the surface of the lake and rustling the leaves of the oak trees on the shore and raising the gulls into the sky, their wings outstretched over us. She smiled expectantly, golden bangs clinging to her forehead, her body hidden by the murky water. I stepped closer to the edge. My scrawny arm rose to scratch my narrow, naked chest, and she splashed me, flashing her bare shoulders. I took a deep breath. My trunks dropped, and I dove in.
R.C. Neighbors, when no one's looking, likes to pretend he's a writer.