With his limping gate, Devon crossed the lawn as well as he was able. Light from an obnoxiously lively party lit him from behind, cast his shadow clear to the pond. Laughter echoed against glass only to be swallowed up in the infinite night.

Tentative croaks and chirps of nearly domesticated wildlife welcomed his arrival and quickly fell silent. That at least felt familiar. The small boat dock bobbed heavily under his feet sending unseen ripples across an inky surface.

Stars looked down; Devon looked up. A smile made a weak attempt at manifestation; a pair of tears tumbled down to squelch the effort. Dreams, or perhaps just vane hope called him upward. Something menacing and repulsive held him low. Directions bled together, leaving him to sway with the effort of thought and restrained anima.

“Devon, you silly monkey,” came a tumbling rush of sweetness from behind him. He did not turn, nor did he speak.

She came to a halt and planted herself, bum in the wet grass, silent witness for his struggle.