This place was mine, well and truly mine, back then. Or rather, it was ours. There were other peo­ple around, some­times — sit­ting and relax­ing or play­ing in the river — but it belonged to us really. Me, and that girl I spent my child­hood almost addicted to. Every day we’d come here, laugh­ing together as we ran bare­foot down the steps, across the yellow-dusted stones and into the deep green water. We’d pad­dle, and splash, and swim, while all the time the sun beat down and we were happy. I won­der, now, how it is that we were able to be so happy about such sim­ple things.

We sat, one evening, watch­ing the swans who year after year came to nest here. Always the same two, of course, for swans keep the same part­ner and the same nest year after year. We thought we were just like them, too — that we’d always be here and be together. In the end, though, I guess that wasn’t true. She had to move away, some­thing to do with her father’s job, but before she left we made a promise. On this day of the year, every year, we’d both come back to this place and see each other again, just like the swans did. Forever.

It’s been fif­teen years, now, and we’ve seen each other at this spot each and every one of them. We’ve changed so much, and we’re such dif­fer­ent peo­ple, but when we come together it’s as if we’d never been apart. For a while, splash­ing and play­ing in the river or on the stony bank, we’re kids again.

The sun sank lower in the sky, turn­ing the fields orange and the river a deep blood-red, and still I waited for her. I dipped my hands in the cool­ing water, pulled them out, and couldn’t stop star­ing at them. Thick red liq­uid dripped from my knuck­les and ran in trick­les down my arm. The river wasn’t just as red as blood tonight, it really was blood. As I stared past the grisly-looking sight, I saw the bod­ies of two swans, cru­elly man­gled bod­ies, come around the bend in the stream ahead and drift slowly past me.

I could find no words, not even any thoughts for the emo­tions I felt. Until today, I’d doubted, I’d refused to believe it was true. But now… Now I knew it must be so. Kneel­ing by the river­side, I cried salty tears into the blood­stained water until long into the night, when the dark­ness of the world mer­ci­fully hid the dread­ful sight from my eyes.

Tomor­row, I leave on an early train. I have a long way to go before her funeral in the morn­ing. I need to pack, too, because I’m not com­ing back here. I’m going to travel the coun­try; the world if nec­es­sary, until I find a town that’s far away from any river. There I’ll live and, like a lonely swan, I’ll never love again.