By Thea De Armond
They chose the apartment because of its proximity to the lake. With his non-profit job and her not working, it was a bit over budget, but she’d grown up in the area and had been eager to return to the neighborhood. It was different when she was a child—fewer buildings, more trees—but the lake was the same. On their first night in the neighborhood, they held hands and walked its perimeter, three miles strung with twinkling lights.
She was up before dawn the following day, pulling on thick, wool socks and lacing up boots. “I want to see the sunrise on the lake,” she explained to his bleary, questioning gaze.