Where the Water Runs

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The water dripped.

Greg sat and stared and watched as the water dripped.

Drip.

He leaned his chair back and rocked gently forward and back, eyes fixed on the faucet as he did. All around him were the voices of the party guests, outside came the sounds from the busy streets, and of course the music was pumping from a base system not too far away.

Drip.

Samantha came over. She sat next to Greg and rubbed his thigh, smiled brightly and whispered, “Hello.”

Greg nodded, but never stopped watching the sink.

Drip.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

After a slow blink, Greg responded. “I’m thinking.”

She looked out at the dripping faucet, then back to Greg, repulsed. “Thinking? About what exactly?”

A smirk rose on the corner of his lips. “I’m trying to solve the biggest conundrum in the history of the world.”

Samantha giggled, then slapped his thigh. “You’re kidding… right?”
Turning to look at her, Greg shook his head. “No.”

Samantha stood up, then started away. “Okay I don’t like being made fun of. Almost had me, Greggory.” She continued to walk to rejoin the rest of the party, but stopped when Greg called out to her.

“Do you want to know what it is?”

Samantha swiveled around, then faced him with one dark-eyebrow raised. “Seriously?”

Greg stood up. “Yes.” He started over to her.

“What is it?” She said, shaking her head back and forth.

Greg ran a hand through her hair, then turned her face and whispered into her ear. “Why does the water always return to itself in the end, no matter what?”

She turned to face him with a smile. “Because it’s water, duh!” Samantha shrugged, with both her palms turned up. “I don’t know, water is water. It’s not like something you can just make.”

Greg took both her cheeks in his hands then kissed her lips. “Exactly.”

– Thomas M. Watt

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