Naked and wet, she stumbles out of the tall grass near the lake’s edge and collapses at my feet. To my eyes she looked like a goddess, limned in a halo of light from the far-off city streets behind her, as I caught first sight of her. It’s probably the alcohol we’ve all been drinking affecting my judgement. Or maybe she was a ghost, a vengeful spirit come to exact her toll upon unsuspecting campers and night fishermen. And then there she was as real as the beer can in my hand lying at my feet in her birthday suit.
“I made it” she giggles and then burps prodigiously, shattering the unearthly image. “Excuse me!” she exclaims and seems genuinely mortified. “I’ve had a little too much to drink” she offers “maybe even a lot too much” she adds hesitantly, looking around and suddenly noticing things are not quite adding up right, that there seems to be a few things missing.
“You’re gonna want to go find your clothes” I offered helpfully. Ever a gentleman, I think to myself. “Yep” she says “I am naked alright” as if finally figuring out what was missing in the equation. “How did I get naked?” she starts to cry “Where are my clothes?”
Editor’s note. A fictionalized intro to the true story I created a narrative for in this article.
