Amy By James Two light-green eyes peer off into the fainting sunlight. They glisten in the darkening, evening sky. She gently holds my hand, with a superficial smile granting me passage to her thin, pale lips. As I kissed them with a swift motion, I felt her body shiver as if a chill ran down her spin; however, it was the middle of July. I gave her my jacket. Her curvy, body curled into that piece of heavy fabric. I watched her as she collapsed into my shoulder, as if I were a heavy oak. She sighed with a self-indulged frown as her brow lost all concerned and worried wrinkles in one relaxed exhalation. My right arm wrapped around the wide shoulders of the meek woman. The mass of frizzy, brunette hair moved as I touched her. Her droopy eyes glared at me with such fervent curiosity, as if she were wondering if I were a vision of her dad. Yet my constant breathing and endless gaze out into the ocean gave it away: my existence was no illusion. At this realization, she bit her lower lip and removed her outer skin. My jacket, a dark brown wool sweater, a white shirt with a Element logo on it, and her pants appeared on the sand below. What was soon revealed was a tiny bikini, secretly hidden behind all her clothing. She did not look at me as she went into the ocean. Her naturally tanned legs crashed against the building tide as she pushed farther into the sea. I watched with my mouth almost ajar. It was true that she was stunningly beautiful. "Amy," I said as I arose from my seat at the beach. She did not reply. Her eyes were set at the horizon. I made my way down towards the beach. She did not halt her advance towards the sun. The woman continued to walk and walk and walk into the sunset. Suddenly, her body began to sink. I watched momentarily until I felt my body fling itself into the water. I dove once my bare feet touched the muddy bed. My legs beat the water as I swam faster and faster, trying to bare without breathing, without thinking, without seeing. Then I bumped into her, a floating mass of serenity. I brought her to the surface, where she spat water into my face with one blow, her lips vibrating making a sort-of Bronx cheer. My hands held her steady as the waves moved us ever so closer. Her light-green eyes stared steadily into mine as her coughs quickly reclined into gentle, chest spasms. Her body was sleek and soft to touch. She felt like a real mermaid, and I had never touched her in such ways before. A sudden spark ignited, and I found myself slowly kissing this woman. Her lips folded onto mine, and the sea hushed our natural pleas of love. We were swept into the shore, where our bodies intertwined. It felt so good to be with her, and I felt at ease finally. "James," Amy muttered to me as we lay before the incoming tide, "take me home." "You want to go home?" I inquired. "Yes, just take me there... Wherever that may be." I looked at her for a long time. It was summer break, and our parents weren't aware of the meeting. They thought we were somewhere else, actually. Our parents weren't even aware that the other person existed. So I took her in my arms, and I carried her to my car. I placed her in the back and placed a blanket over her. She closed her eyes as I went away to retrieve her stripped clothing. When I returned, she was sleeping in complete peace. I watched her for a steady half-hour, just thinking about her and her style. We weren't the same anymore. We grew up. "Amy," I whispered, "are you awake?" She didn't reply. "Will you promise me something?" Still no reply. "Amy, I want you to be my wife." Tiny tears leaked down her defined face, and I wiped the tears away. Then her eyes peaked open as I held her face in my palm. She gently rubbed her cheek against it, trying to force all thoughts and emotions out with one aggressive dig at my hand. This was futile, and all that was left was a soft and self-indulged sigh. I watched her as she cried. We were to get married in 2009. On our wedding day, symbolically, a small little girl died. She was 24, and the boy who she died to was 23. He was rather mature for his age; actually, he was quite brilliant and absolutely caring for his wife. It is said that the 24 year-old-girl died willingly to the boy of 23. Those who witnessed such a defeat say that she was born for this moment, and that he was born for all the moments ahead. I couldn't tell you if they were right, but the two, small little kids now live in a small little apartment where a small little child bumps around in the stomach of a tall and intelligent person who has one of those small little souls that never seems to die.