The Lake

            It is just past midnight at the lake. A baby blue Cadillac pulls up right onto the sand: a new one, fresh off the line, the first model since the krauts surrendered. It turns its headlights off and coasts using the light of the full moon that is nestled on top of the soft evergreens surroundings. The car turns off and sits silent parallel to the shore.

            The driver side door opens and a gray panted leg steps out into the cool blue sand. It is followed by the other, and the arms and hands pull the rest of the body out. The man is wearing an A-shirt tucked into his pants, and suspenders off his shoulders that seem to pull the pants down a bit. He keeps his hands in his pockets; perhaps because it is cold, but more likely to keep them on his hips as whenever he takes one out, they slip off that side and reveal the border between his undershirt and boxer shorts.

            He slides the suspenders back onto his shoulders and slams the car door. It hits the frame with a metallic pop and he sighs, still looking at it. He takes two steps back, turns to his left and walks towards the front of the car. His hands go back into his pockets and he sighs again as he sits on the hood. His bowed back rises and falls, the lake water laps at the shore.

            There is no one else for miles. The lake is a summer spot, a vacation town during summer, but now in late November it is deserted, except for this man and his Cadillac. He does not move around all that much, mainly just staring at the water while shifting weight from butt cheek to the other, letting one foot dangle at a time, then switching it back to the chrome bumper and letting the other foot swing free.

            Headlights stumble by on the far bank. He jumps up and glares at the twin specters bouncing down the dirt road. He looks back at his car, and then returns to tracking the approaching vehicle. He keeps switching his focus between the two, and walking towards and away from the bank, towards the car and away from the car, away from his car and back towards it.

            The headlights bounce along and slowly turn away, the white lights change into red ones, and they get smaller. He watches them until they are completely hidden by distance and the trees that surround this nowhere burg. Then there is silence. It is just he and his car, and the moon and the lake, and the dark. He wanted to wait for sunrise.