There is a long pier that runs down toward the ocean, veers off from the main boardwalk. Doppler effect sets in, where the music and din of voices, families laughing and arguing and crying and joyful exclaiming - They all pitch shift down and decrescendo, still carrying. The sun has mostly set now and I can see a golden glow creating halos around purple clouds. I can still make out the water and the waves and the beach. I sit on the edge of this wooden pier and dangle my feet over the water. My hands at my sides, on the wood, balancing and supporting. A friend comes by and announces her presence by putting her hand on my shoulder before sitting down and replacing her hand with her head. And we sit like that, calmly and alone. Listening to the tide carry our thoughts away to distant buoys and marine life, feeling the cool breeze that makes me grateful I brought my windbreaker - and grateful I have someone next to me. My hand slips around her shoulder and I pull her a little closer, gently but intentional. Time has stopped all around us. Cool summer evening where you could live off the air and not eat for days. We are naive kids. We know nothing about the world except for this unspoken moment. The pier creaks, like it's jealous and wants us to remember it's still there, holding us up. And then it's like I cannot resist, and I smoothly turn my face into hers and peck her lips with my own. There is no surprise. We know how we feel about each other. We are stuck in some Zen eddy, some breathable rip current that has taken us out of the ocean of time. We know it's only a matter of time until we make our way out, or rather - get pulled out against our will. We know this and accept this. I remove my hand from her shoulder and thread my left hand through her right. I feel whole and secure. The golden halos have gone away. It is getting harder to see past our feet. The cool air starts to pervade my jacket. Kissing her again, just a nanosecond longer, I ask if she wants to go find some hot chocolate.