I woke to the insistent sound of the alarm clock, just like every day, and for a moment I stayed in bed, trying to delay reality. The room was quiet, with the faint morning light filtering through the curtains. For a second, I wanted to curl back under the blanket and pretend the world could wait, but the routine of my internship pulled me out of bed.
I got up slowly, slipping on my worn-out slippers and pulling my hair back. My backpack was already packed, filled with notebooks crammed with notes on soil, irrigation, and native plant species. Senior year of agronomy shows no mercy, and I still had a nutrient analysis report to turn in.
As I brushed my teeth, I heard lively knocking on the door.
"Ana! Hurry up, you're going to be late!" Pedri's voice carried through the wood.
"I'm coming!" I answered without much energy, pulling on an old T-shirt and jeans.
Pedri was always like that, always rushing, always in a hurry. I never understood how someone could be so extroverted, but somehow, we balanced each other. While he complained about missing breakfast, we stepped out into the street, greeted by the cool morning breeze. The day was bright, the sky clear, but a faint mist gave the town a calm, almost drowsy air.
We walked to the bakery near the bus stop. Pedri talked nonstop about movies, series, and people from college, while I just nodded and sipped my black coffee. I liked watching him: his exaggerated gestures, his loud laughter, all that overflowing energy.
The bus arrived right on time, and during the ride I tried to mentally organize the day's tasks. First, stop by the internship lab to collect soil samples for the project I was following, then head to campus. My notebooks were filled with sketches and notes—scribbles that helped me remember details about plants and field observations. I always enjoyed drawing, even if no one understood my messy diagrams.
When we reached the lake near the lab, the reflection on the water caught my attention. It was nothing unusual—the sunlight on the surface, a few ducks swimming—but for some reason, my gaze lingered there longer than usual. Pedri commented on the smell of damp earth and laughed at how I always noticed everything, from the color of leaves to the way branches swayed in the wind.
"You're going to be late again if you stop to look at every rock along the way," he teased, and I just laughed quietly.
At the lab, I worked with the soil samples, jotting down data and comparing colors, textures, and moisture levels. The hours slipped by almost unnoticed, between experiments, records, and quick chats with fellow interns. Later, we headed to campus, where a whole morning of lectures was waiting for me.
The campus buzzed with students in a hurry, talking, laughing, planning group projects. I walked alongside Pedri, listening to his jokes and observing the details of a routine that felt so simple, so ordinary. The world around me seemed normal—and that was comforting.
After classes, we decided to take the route back that passed near the lake. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky with shades of orange and pink. Everything felt peaceful, like any spring afternoon in Seven Lakes.
"Want to walk around the lake?" Pedri suggested, excited, and I agreed. It was something we did sometimes, with no rush, just to talk or admire the scenery.
As we walked, the breeze carried the scent of water and nearby trees. That's when I noticed something unusual by the shore, a shape that didn't move, partially hidden by water and fallen leaves. My steps slowed, my heartbeat quickened, though I didn't yet understand why.
Pedri moved closer, curious, but before he could say anything, I saw it clearly: a body, still, floating in silence. The ordinary day, the quiet lake, the entire town that had seemed so normal suddenly felt small against the raw, chilling truth in front of me.
And in that instant, as I leaned closer, trying to comprehend what I was seeing, she appeared. Not in a strange or otherworldly way, but simply walking down the side path, watching the scene with the same quiet curiosity I felt. Her dark eyes met mine for a fleeting moment, and something unspoken passed between us. She noticed my necklace, and I realized she had.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice low, almost a whisper, but steady.
I didn't know what to say. I only nodded, still caught between what lay before me: the lake, the body, and now her, standing there as if she understood something I wasn't ready to grasp.
And so my seemingly ordinary day ended, with the world around me unchanged, yet nothing ever the same again.