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The rickety wooden boat swayed slightly as the tall man sat, clutching the edge. He watched as the girl’s body sank lower and lower until it was completely underwater and out of sight.
She hadn’t been the one.
He’d been sure she was, but once again, he’d been proven wrong.
He waited until the bubbles stopped.
It was over.
Until next year.
Then it would be time to find the next girl. Would she finally be the one?
He grew tired. Exhausted, really. Not enough to stop his search, though. He needed to right the wrong from so many years ago.
Next year would be thirty years.
Thirty.
That was a big anniversary.
Perhaps next year’s girl would be the one he’d waited so long for. Year thirty could be when he finally received his big payoff. He was starting to get too old for this. His shoulder ached.
Everything would be made right.
Next year would be his year.
All he needed was just a little patience.
He had a full year to plan everything out.
The tall man glanced back out at the still lake.
Another lake, another girl, another year.
When would all this finally end? Would everything finally be as it should?
Next year. It had to be next year. No, it would be.
He grabbed the oars and rowed back to the shore, already making plans for next Halloween.
