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Now, I fell apart when memories plagued me during the day, following me as night approached and the sky lost its color.

Now, I was a woman who had nightmares. Nightmares full of dark water that held me below its surface, tasting of chlorine.

I had become weak.

A coward.

I turned down the main road and followed its curve as I ran down the mountain. My feet hitting the pavement in a steady rhythm as I passed the occasional house along my regular route.

Privacy was a perk of where I lived high up on the mountain.

Another perk: the view.

My house overlooked the city of Gray, sprawled across the valley below, with the Gray River flowing lazily around it, like something you’d find on a postcard photo sent from a charming small town.

Giant pine trees and clusters of wildflowers covered the mountainside, filling the summer air with a fragrant blend of sharp pinesap and soft sweetness. The scent of the flowers my favorite part about this time of year.

For a city with a dull name like Gray, it was truly anything but.

The trees grew dense as I took a trail that weaved its way down toward the lower part of the mountain, the familiar sound of rushing water growing louder with each of my strides.

The water’s crescendo roared as Gray Waterfall came into view—the city’s most popular tourist destination, empty on a weekday morning, the only sound coming from the water falling off the top of the mountain and dropping into the deep gorge below.

The waterfall was my favorite spot in all of Gray, and the halfway point where I routinely turned around to make the trek back up to my house on my morning run.

It was peaceful here.

Therapeutic.

Loud enough to drown out one’s thoughts.

Exactly what the doctor ordered, in addition to the antidepressant medication that sat untouched in the medicine cabinet above my bathroom sink back home.

I sighed, shaking away the heaviness of it all.

How had my life turned into such disarray so quickly?

I ignored the mess that was my life, and focused on the waterfall instead, studying the way the sunlight danced off the clear liquid, making it appear as brilliantly iridescent as a blanket of stars. Shadows furled and danced behind its curtain, bouncing back and forth between the water’s surface and the rock of the mountain.

I closed my eyes, imagining the water slipping through my fingers and intertwining with them as if holding my hand. Thoughts of cool shadows licked their way up my arms, sending a shiver down my spine, my chest humming at the pleasure of it, all while the air perfumed around me. The scent of rich incense, with a slight sweetness, reminding me of the time my parents had taken me camping as a child, and I’d held my marshmallow over the campfire for too long, charring the white.

It was then I’d learned I thoroughly enjoyed burnt marshmallows.

A twig snapped behind me, startling me from the memory.

Whipping around, I prepared to face my oncoming attacker, steadying my heart from beating too quickly: a practiced skill. But instead of an unknown enemy, I found a pair of squirrels chasing each other across the trail, their tails twirling playfully before scuttling away into the woods.

I chided myself, releasing the tension in my chest before focusing back on my waterfall.

I was jumpier than usual.

But I was weak now. Jumping at the sound of squirrels in the woods my new normal.

And now my waterfall no longer looked full of life, for a shift in the clouds had dampened the sun’s effect. The water no longer shimmered, and the shadows had quit their dancing as if the commotion had spooked them, too.

I stared blankly at the water, disappointed.

“See you tomorrow,” I whispered delicately to the landmark that couldn’t talk back, before turning away to head back up the mountain, somehow feeling worse than I had before I started my run.