He crouched closer, inclining his head toward the still and smooth of the water. Tentatively, he reached out and dipped his fingers into the water, rippling when he pulled them back out so suddenly. The face that was staring back at him was distorted now, no longer holding the beauty that had awed him.

After a few moments, the water returned to its mirror-like state and once again.

Something in him yearned to touch it, and to see if it was really darling as it looked. Yet another part of him forbade it; it might have been chased away by his intimidating curiosity. Each time he fluttered his lashes, it followed suite; each time he scratched his nose, it did the same. It developed into a game of sorts, and he would tap his fingers on his chin, and when the reflection would begin, he would tear his fingers away and chuckle at how this parallel creature emulated his every move.

Hours dripped by like the drops from the leaves into the pool. He was on his stomach, chin cupped in palm as hooded eyes watched the figure in the water stare back with the same half-lidded eyes and mischievously curved lips. When the drops landed on the reflection, he wriggled his nose in irritation and squirmed closer to stare.

Darkness curtained the area, yet he was still there, awing at the transcendental beauty. He expected it to be no less than a god.

When bare white legs slyly slid from behind a tree and knelt beside him, he did not feel the press of lips on his ear or the hot breath. Did not feel the hot tears staining his skin. Did not feel the rays of dawn on his back.

Saw only the narrow green leaves and the white petals that stared back at him from the water.