They sat at the beach. The lake was still.
She didn't said much. He knew.
He cleared his throat. The only sound breaking the silence.
It wasn't an awkward silence. It was a choice they'd made.
They'd silently agreed to stay silent. No voices, no words.
It was a comfortable silence. But it came to an end.
"Why is the lake named like this?" she asked.
His eyes sparkled. Storytime.
"You see, some time ago, years ago, ages ago," he started.
"There was a prison near this lake"
"By that time, the lake was freshwater"
"Some times, the prisoners were allowed to take baths"
"That's where the lake comes in"
"Most prisoners didn't shower. They would sit crying nearby"
"Their tears would contain all their sad thougths"
"And the tears would fall down into the lake. Years passed"
"Prisoners would come and go. They all cried into the lake"
"The water turned salty. No-one showered here lake anymore"
"In the end the prison was closed. That was many years ago"
"But the lake kept its name"