Feathery voices waft past, gossamer fills my mind, I see through hazy molten air.
A lifetime ago, the boy had slipped in. In the frozen reaches of memory, the shock of the wintry lake water burned at my skin.
A face hovers above me, indistinct, puffing, saying something. Too far away. I can't make it out.
Where is the boy? I wonder. I feel the wet scarf. My hand still clutches it, the wool frozen to my fingers.
Where is the boy? As I slide down the warmth ahead of me, I realize I might never know.
Or perhaps, I will know very soon. Perhaps I will find out. Find out everything.
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