There was a girl who lived in the water. She came up and told me to join her, but I could not, because I am fire. The girl was disappointed, but sank back into the water anyway.
The next day, I came back. She had risen up, and was sitting on the grass, twirling blades of it between her fingers. She rose up when she saw me, and came over to me. We stood face to face for a while, just staring at each other. She was beautiful, all curves, all angles, all perfection.
We walked for a while, and she was careful not to touch me, because if she did, I would fizzle out.
We sat under the shade of a huge tree. She told me about her friends, and her life in the water. I told her about how horrible it is to be fire, and how my life in the fireplace is. She told me her name is Mist, and I told her my name is Flame. I am one of many Flames, I tell her. She laughs, and tells me that she is one of many Mists.
When I stood up, there was a huge patch of scorched earth under me. That happens a lot, I tell her. She nods, and we walk back to her river. She steps in the river and faces me. Will you come tomorrow? She asks. No, I tell her. I shouldn’t.
She looks so sad then, her shoulders hunched, and her eyes downcast. Why not?
Because I am not good for you, I tell her. She shakes her head. You are wrong. You are perfect for me.
She kisses me then, right on the lips. It hurts, and I can feel her water ending my life, slowly, agonizing, perfect. She soon stops though. I wish she wouldn’t stop though. She is perfect for me. She sinks back into the river then, with a soft smile.
The next time I come back, she is sitting on the river bank, next to a man made of water. As I watch, she laughs, and he kisses her on the lips, like she had done to me yesterday. I turn and walk into the forest.
That was the last time I saw my water girl.