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A Soft gasp came from her lips, a squeak as her brown Chuck Taylors sank into the mud. The squish of the wet earth swallowed her up to the cloth part of the shoe. She tried to step on the little grass path, but her feet kept finding the moist pockets of mud that threatened eating her alive.

All the while he laughed at her, her little "eek"s and "oh my god"s. She was trying so hard to be graceful, taking the path around the mud instead of over the logs like he had. But she made it, blushing from embarrassment, wiping her dark hair from her face. His own brown hair was unruly in itself, but she never seemed to mind. "In fact," she had once said, "it's part of your charm."

She didn't know what he was thinking, never did. He only sometimes opened up to her, after a year or two of knowing him, she still didn't honestly know him. It was hard not to love him though, even while with someone else, someone safe and kind, she wanted to be able to love him too. She didn't know if he was safe, though. Not safe enough at least, not interested or maybe just too afraid to act upon that interest if he was. Maybe that was good, though. After all, who would she honestly choose between faced with that choice?

At the current situation, she couldn't help smiling. He was leading her to a little cove, a small pond surrounded by gren trees, a small water fall more like a creek in itself for its tiny size. Small holes of upturning sand and bubbling water broke the surface. She stepped onto a log jutting out over the water, sitting down on it as he looked for a stick to shove into one of the gurgling holes. She watched quietly, smiling as he held up sticks, measuring them with his eyes. He finally settled on cutting the long branch of a sappling that seemed to be breaking the small tree rather than helping it.

She wondered alloud why boys had a fascination with sticking objects into holes, and he laughed. She also wondered, quietly however, if he would fall in. Lo-and-behold he managed to poke the branch into the hole far enough that he had to let go, or risk falling into the sand and soot beneath the water's surface.

She liked doing things like this, walking in the park, talking, laughing. Even if her Chuck Taylors were dirty with mud, and the walk back would possibly swallow her whole. She didn't want to think about the other people in her life, or the illness threatening her very livelyhood. She didn't really care if her Chucks were dirty. She just wanted to be here, with him, smiling at his siliness, and listen to the gurgle of the little waterfall.