Every Saturday, Anton went to the edge of the lake, where he last spoke with Natasha, his lover. Anton actually didn’t like being in the lake, he despised nature. He leaned against an old oak tree with many scratches on its trunk. Upon that tree, of which invisible remembrances were pinned least to his mind, Anton was taken back to the day, where they last spoke. That afternoon, he had turned down her invitation to go for a hike to the mountains — together. Like they always used to, except that he hated it — nature. Why go to a place where you were never meant to be? Little did he know, this very question, was the reason why he had found himself returning to this very tree.

Three years had passed since the news of Natasha’s disappearance reached Anton’s ears. The guilt and pain in Anton’s heart did not recover, in fact, it got worse. Anton always thought, that maybe it was because he hated nature, that nature responded so cruelly to him. Took his lover. Took his future wife.

But no other year, no other Saturday.

That afternoon, Anton decided to face the very thing he hated. And so he looked upon the lake and saw his reflection atop the cliff where the oak tree sat. A minute’s contemplation passed, yet Natasha was nowhere to be found. Perhaps, thought Anton, if I brave these cliffs, if I brave nature, I might see her again. And so he did. And hoped to see Natasha again. Somewhere, in a better place than nature.