The lake beside my house is full of bones. People come here to forget, tipping old bodies into the water.

Memories don’t vanish with skin and muscle, though. They wrap around the bones, like fishing line, visible in the right light. On clear mornings, I see them littering the bottom.

J.C. Pillard is a writer and editor living in Colorado. Her work has been published in Metaphorosis Magazine, Abyss & Apex, Penumbric, and elsewhere. When not writing, J.C. can be found gardening and knitting far too many sweaters. Find more of her work at www.jcpillard.com.