Today we're resting at Matt's grandparents' cottage. Since we first plotted this destination on the map, Matt has described this destination to us as paradisiacal; I have yet to disagree with him.
I am tempted to suggest that we end the trip here. "Let's stop here," I would whisper to my traveling companions. "Let's spend the next two weeks here, overlooking the lake, then drive with our bikes to Quincy, MA for our finale. No one would have to know!" Perhaps we could even stay longer -- indefinitely. I would lounge on the deck daily; learn to sail, maybe, if I got the courage; and definitely learn to like fish.
But we cannot stay. I cannot stay. Eventually, the faces of those I'd forgotten would reflect off the water by the dock.
The man in Seattle stood overlooking the sea, calling:
"Hello! Hello? Are you there?
Can you hear me? Help me!
Help me! I'm drowning!
Hello? I need help! I'm drowning!"
He paused, concluding,
"I hate you!"