We had a trip by the lake that cold February morning. Everyone was excited to go do some dipping near the small waterfall located in the middle, but I stayed on the stony shorelines, just smiling and appreciating the fun you were all having. 

Maybe it was an hour after when you noticed me taking interest on the rocks beneath my feet, or maybe it was when I attempted to grab a rock to throw it into the lake, that you swam by and took me by surprise. You pushed a smooth, rounded pebble into my hand and told me to try with it.

…and I did, but it, sadly, did not skip.

Somehow, the feeling of your fingertips lightly grazing my palm skipped more than just the stone that you picked up from the ground. That was when the fog started to appear, and I could not understand a thing you’re saying.

My breathing suddenly became shallow and my palms started to sweat as I stood beside you that warm morning with your hand guiding mine to throw a piece of earth back into the water.

You skipped them all perfectly. All of them including a beat of my heart.