Just awful.

My phone buzzes, so I pull it from the pocket of my short skirt to see a text from Harbor: How’s the country club crowd?

I smile and then look out over the massive lake. I can barely make out the other side, giving me a sense of my size in this world. It’s good to feel the greatness of nature. I wish Harbor was here with me to experience this.

I reply: Truth? They’re horrible people.

Harbor texts: I already knew that.

Texting, I take a deep breath: I guess you do.

I pause with my fingers over the screen. It’s not that I don’t want to tell him what happened or how I quit. I just worry that I’ll upset him over something he doesn’t need to be bothered with. But with love comes honesty, so I type: I quit today. Larry fired me. I’m not sure. Either way, I’m no longer employed.

My phone rings.

Grinning, I answer, “You don’t have to worry, Harbor. I’m fine. Maybe it hasn’t set in yet, but I’ll survive.” The line crackles, and I dumbly look around like I can find the source of the bad connection.

He says, “That’s a big deal, baby. Are you alright?”

“I’m okay. I really am.” The sun is high in the sky, just gone noon, reflecting off the top of the water.

The day is warming up nicely, and the walk probably helped to get my blood flowing. Look at me handling being unemployed in such a healthy manner. He asks, “Where are you now?”

A shift causes my hose to snag. “Dammit.” The run takes off the length of my leg, and I know these tights are goners.

“Lark, where are you?”

“I’m taking a break to rest at Devil’s Edge.”

There’s a pause and then another crackle that has me checking the screen to make sure we’re still connected. Then he asks, “Why are you there?” Like the phone, his tone has a gravel to it. “How did you get there?”

It has the hairs on the back of my neck rising from the seriousness. “I walked from the country club.”

“Lark, Devil’s Edge has been closed for the past two years.” He sounds almost breathless as he moves about. The sound of a door squeals in the background. Knowing him, he’ll rush to my rescue. Since my feet hurt, I wouldn’t be upset.

I look around for signs but don’t see any. “No, it’s not. I’m sitting right here.”

“Get to the road. Now.” The shock of his demand has my breath stalled in my chest. “And don’t go near the cliffs. Do you hear me, Lark?”

He makes me nervous, like it’s life or death. I say, “Calm down, babe,” but I still gather my legs onto the rock beside me and start to push away to get up.

“I’m on my way.”

Not even a crackle is heard when the phone goes silent, so I bring it down to look at the screen again. This time the call is lost. Or did he hang up on me?