They sat next to each other, both heaving and panting for a full minute before properly catching their breath again. The 27-year-old was the one who spoke first, saying:


“Man! I’m in such bad shape! I really need to start working out again. Did you see how out of breath I was just then?” and looked at the little girl with a smile that was trying to make light of a still unweighable situation.


“Yeah, you almost let me drown there…” said the little girl keeping her arms crossed in front of her still flat chest, looking down at the water with a frown.


Our protagonist was surprised by the little girl’s reaction and didn’t quite understand what she meant or what was going on at all. I mean, she just saved this strange girl’s ass and, instead of being grateful, she was angry?! It wasn’t like it was her fault she’d gotten in the water! Maybe she should have just ignored her like everyone else and leave her to fend for herself, but… No, she wasn’t like that and also… This girl was beginning to spark her curiosity now. So, she had to ask:


“What happened though? How did you end up in the canal? Did you fall?”


“I had to, okay? I had to fall to catch your attention. I didn’t just feel like having a swim, no! You’ve ignored me for so long… I got tired of watching you do stupid shit without even asking for my opinion…” and, this time, the little girl looked straight at our main character with fire burning in her eyes.


“What are you talking about? I don’t even know you!” she said back, got up and was about to walk away when she heard these words being screamed at her back by an all too familiar voice:


“Sure! Walk away! Run! That’s all you’ve ever been able to do, isn’t it? As soon as things get heated you walk away! You’re so scared of confrontation that you don’t even confront yourself anymore… Honestly, I just wonder what your last real memory is…”


“Excuse me, little one! I don’t know who you think you are! My life is none of your business but, for your information, I remember everything, okay?! I have a really good memory!”


“Yeah… A selective good memory… Sure! The things you want to remember, you remember them, I’ll give you that. You still remember each one of your exes’ birthdays… And that ring?! Like, when are you going to get over it?! The idiot left you to be with the newer, shinier, blonder toy after three years of you eating up of all his bullshit… The only gifts he ever gave you were this stupidly cheap ring and a load of useless new insecurities, and you still remembered to wish him a happy birthday last month… But you’ve forgotten about me?!”


“Okay, that’s a low blow… But, if—as you say—I should know who you are, why don’t you just tell me who you are, instead of getting all angry at me?”


“Oh my God! You’re so dense! You wouldn’t even recognize yourself in a mirror!” and, again, our little girl took on her angry-but-proud pose: arms crossed in front of her chest, slight pout of the lips, and eyes looking down at the water and away from her interlocutor.


At that moment, the older girl, who was still standing—towering over the little girl—felt tiny and uncomfortable, as though her skin was too loose on her bones, and her body was a few too many sizes bigger than what she needed it to be.