I'll be here.

She stood on the pebble beach, allowing the lapping water to touch the white toes of her converse. She stared across the lake at the mist that was beginning to settle in the pines on the other side. The flashing red and blue lights reflected off the water droplets in the air and danced through her periphery. Behind her traffic cones materialized, blocking the road and parking lot. Soon she would be pushed behind the cones with the rest of the people gathering to gawk at the crime scene. She hated rubberneckers. She would hate more to be mistaken for one. She conjured up a few tears, pinched her nose, made it pink, and turned on her heel. She turned her back on the lake where they had their first date, and second, and fifth. She pictured a blue body, anchored to the bottom. The amount of time he spent rowing, swimming, floating across the lake. It would only make sense for them to find him sinking in it. She would have to shake hands, give hugs, shed tears, and sit next to his fucking mother at all these fucking tragic events talking about how much he lit up a room when in reality, he was simply not funny.