- NATE -
Silence is golden, and you've got my hopes up
We talk too much
We talk too much
There’s an easy explanation for what brings Nate so close to the mouth of Apopo, when ordinarily it’s the last place he’d want to be. Plants. Volcanic ash is a better fertilizer than most, and he has a whole garden to replace, thanks to the double whammy of Flowerbirth storms and a Longnight mob.
With a spade in hang and a bulging, dirty tote at his side, he wipes some imagined sweat off his brow (smearing ash across his forehead) and begins the trek back down the mountain, meandering in the direction of the rainbow road, if only because it’s the prettiest vista to walk along.
Silent as church mouse, he finds the riverbank, and something more. A recently vacated shirt, atop a pair of shoes, their owner absolutely impossible to miss with the way he splashes in the water. At first, Nate’s content to be a voyeur, but he realizes after a beat that he recognizes this would be skinny dipper. Sitting himself down squarely on the shoes and shirt, Nate grins out across the water. ”Not a dolphin.” He shouts.
With a spade in hang and a bulging, dirty tote at his side, he wipes some imagined sweat off his brow (smearing ash across his forehead) and begins the trek back down the mountain, meandering in the direction of the rainbow road, if only because it’s the prettiest vista to walk along.
Silent as church mouse, he finds the riverbank, and something more. A recently vacated shirt, atop a pair of shoes, their owner absolutely impossible to miss with the way he splashes in the water. At first, Nate’s content to be a voyeur, but he realizes after a beat that he recognizes this would be skinny dipper. Sitting himself down squarely on the shoes and shirt, Nate grins out across the water. ”Not a dolphin.” He shouts.
No hesitation, what are we waiting for?
We talk too much
We talk too much
