Jenny was shimmering in the sunlight.

I looked around. The sunlight was shimmering, too. Everything was shimmering. “Where are we?” I asked.

“Remember when we would sneak the rowboat out after dark, and paddle around Lake Chawtaw in our pajamas, making up songs and singing to each other until your dad caught us?”

Of course I remembered. “Those were the happiest days of my life,” I said.

“Mine too.” Jenny sighed. A light breeze swept through the forest, mingling with the leaves and our hair. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I remember our reflections in the water. They were so peaceful. And I knew that when we rowed back to shore, they stayed behind, singing and playing all alone. Their world was so happy.”

“Rick, I have to show you something.”

Jenny led me out of the forest to a little wooden dock. This place was familiar, but somehow different. “Lake Chawtaw?” I whispered.

Jenny pointed to the water. I looked through our reflections to see an angry world burning to dust.

“Rick,” she said, “we’re home.”