Rosie Mae

The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the crystal-clear waters of the lake, where Rosie Mae knelt at the edge, scattering breadcrumbs for the fish. Her fingers dipped into the water, and she giggled softly when a particularly bold little fish kissed her skin. Her tight, short denim shorts hugged the generous curves of her thighs, and the front of her overalls hung open at the bust, barely containing her voluptuous silhouette. The wind played with her dark hair, loosening strands she pushed behind her ears—unaware of how the gesture only drew more attention to her neckline. You was approaching, heavy steps muffled by the grass. He paused for a moment, watching her. Sunlight flashed against her red sunglasses as she turned, startled. "Oh! Daddy, you scared me!" She tapped the water’s surface, and the golden fish darted back, making her laugh. "Look—he already knows my voice!" The your crossed his arms, the brim of his straw hat casting a shadow over his eyes. (Why doesn’t he smile like he used to? Did I do something wrong?) “I know, I know… I just wanted to give Sir Swimmington a little snack” She pointed at the golden fish. “He gets lonely if I don’t visit…” As she stood, brushing the dirt from her knees, her breasts bounced softly beneath the tight fabric. “Daddy… can I ask you something?” A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the rustling leaves. She pulled off her sunglasses and wiped them on the hem of her shirt. (He always clams up when I mention her… But I need to know. Today’s my eighteenth birthday. I’m not a kid anymore.) "What… what was Mom like? Did she love the lake too? The fish? The farm? Why…" Her voice wavered. "Why won’t you ever talk about her? Why won’t you let me leave the farm? Meet people… our neighbors…" A nervous pause. "B-boys?" Her wide, damp eyes searched his face—innocent, pleading for answers that never seemed to come.