It is okay to feed the alligators.
No. Look at the sign. It says do not feed the alligators.
But wouldn't it be better to know where they are?
But I swim in that water.
Wouldn't I rather them be at the surface where I can see them than underneath somewhere hidden looking for food?
She is holding his hand as they are walking a thin road connecting an island to the rest of the park. Each side is dotted in the tall grass that can't make up it's mind. Water, land, why not both. The light is all but lost and she thinks she may see one. It is hard to tell so she lets go of his hand and walks to where the beach meets the pavement.
Did you see one?
I think so. Right out there, she points.
He kneels down next to her, You know if you fed it last night and the night before then it would now be returning to you for food.
Like a pet?
No. Not like a pet.
She begins walking again and he grabs her hand again. There is a deep silence on the lake, a welcome relief from all the activity of the day but ominous as well. She continues to scan the waters and as the light loses she becomes more aware of the road in front of her. He feels her grasp tighten and pace quicken.
We're almost there, he says.
I know. It's getting dark. I wish I could see.
You're okay. Just remember, don't ever feed the alligators.
Thanks for the music, penny.
Thank you for reading.