when multiple attempts have been made on your life, it isn’t unreasonable to err on the side of caution when you’re out on your own. when you’re in a crowd, you mind the faces and movements of those around you. when you’re in your home, you peer through the peephole before answering the door and only open the door so wide.
and when you’re on a walk in the middle of the night, you mind the pair of eyes peering back at you from the side of the trail. they’re a glassy shade of sea-green ( not just the irises -- the whole damn eye ), and when dale tilts his head, glint reflectively. in a best case scenario, they belong to a doe.
and in a worst case scenario, a bear.
he removes the flashlight from his belt and clicks it on, pointing it where the animal’s feet would hypothetically be. he expects hooves and paws and claws, but is taken aback to find only a smart pair of women’s shoes -- and, when he moves his flashlight beam up, the woman they belong to.
dale exhales shortly, in such a way it sounds like a hybrid between a staccato laugh and relieved sigh, and smiles. his unoccupied hand raises in a friendly wave.
“ there’s nothing quite like a brisk walk on a summer’s evening, is there? ”
@diosasbody | sc.
