#redacted lasko

A mangled body, in the vague shape of a human man? The river currents sweep and caressed over every rock, yet not one of them disrupted the reflection. Perhaps it's the product of watching those horror movies with Freelancer. The quotient of listening to horror podcasts while you accomplish faculty documents.

You're leaning in before you notice.

An image. Outlining a face you'd glimpsed at work, the face you've woken up next to each morning for the past several months.

Bags under keen, manic eyes, too familiar yet too sharp to how you know—

It could be a trick of the light. The doings of loose marble beneath the rushing stream, sparking under sunlight. The man's gaze gleams, not unlike a dog gifted a plaything.

You realize it a touch too late.

He sees you.

"Dear?"

The man dissipates.

When you turn around, he's there. Lasko Moore is holding onto a tree, hunched over and panting despite his earlier comments on not needing a break. His stamina improved greatly since your last hike together, to his credit.

He squints at you over his glasses. Whatever expression you must have been making warrants his concerned expression now.

"What—what happened? Did you see something?"

You idle. What to say, what to say?

I saw a man in the river. Decaying, yet very much alive. He had your eyes.

No, you couldn't say that. God forbid he actually take you at your word—after a healthy bout of doubtful laughter on his end—and end up having a nervous breakdown over this trail being haunted.

It seemed more difficult to inhale. Was the air thinner now?

"No. I wanted to wait for you."

Lasko's still staring at you. It's not enough.

You offer a plaintive smile.

"There's a place up ahead with a beautiful view of Dahlia. I didn't want to take any pictures without you."

At that, your partner's shoulders drop with the slightest breath of relief. He doesn't hide his emotions very well, he never has. If he noticed the weight in the atmosphere, he doesn't outwardly present it.

"Oh, okay, got it. That's nice of you, thank you, even though, uh, it's kind of my fault we're behind on the hike—"

You shake your head, approaching him. Branches snap under your boots. Letting him ramble here wouldn't be too wise.

"None of that. Let's go, it'll be even prettier when the sun sets."

As you slide your arm into his, the two of you navigate the next part of the trail with relative ease. The footprints are almost comforting, amidst everything else.

The sooner you drag him away from that place, the better.

Yet, the river from before still lingers at your side, singing a song you've grown all too connected to. Persistent, it also hails from the upward path you're walking along. The discordant harmony from before lingers in bitter notes.

You cast a sidelong glance at the river.

It's loud. It's loud, but there's no fish. No life to mistake for the shadow—or face—of a man.

Of the very man you're walking with.

The wind's harsher, biting cold. Almost vindictive and attention-seeking, more than the typical wind in this part of California.

Distantly, you hear Lasko rambling under his breath about how windy it is, though it wasn't mentioned in the forecast before you two left.

The explanation for the weather looms over your head, stings your peripheral vision. It's likely the reason why the water's murky and baritone in tune, as compared to its normal crystalline.

You murmur, thoughtful, "I'll talk to you later."

Like magic, the wind relaxes.

The urge to laugh is almost violent in your lungs. How predictable.

Lasko nudges your shoulder.

"Did you say something?"

You lean into him in response. He's warm.

"Nothing at all."

You'll have to let the water run a little deeper for your bath later.

mimi's missive:

hello! sorry for being awol for months, 2026 has been an incredibly hectic year. if you recognize me from two lyrics of the same verse (fool meets prime), i promise part 3 is on the way.