The First Walk
From the novel When the River Meets the Sea
By Mavin Simai
The next morning, I returned to the river earlier than usual.
I told myself it was habit. That the river had always been my quiet place. But deep down I knew the truth—I was hoping she would be there again.
The sky was still pale when I reached the bend in the path. The sun had only begun to rise, stretching thin lines of gold across the surface of the water. The air smelled fresh, touched by the dampness of the night.
For a moment I thought I had come too early.
The bench by the river was empty.
I stood there for a while, listening to the steady movement of the current. A fisherman further downstream was casting his line into the water, the quiet splash echoing across the riverbank.
Maybe yesterday had been a coincidence.
Maybe she had just been passing through.
I turned slightly, ready to walk further along the path.
“Good morning.”
I turned around quickly.
Amina stood a few steps behind me, holding her sketchbook against her chest.
Her hair was tied back loosely this time, but the breeze had already freed a few strands. The same calm expression rested on her face, as if mornings belonged to her.
“You’re here again,” I said.
She smiled.
“So are you.”
I laughed softly.
“Fair point.”
For a moment we simply stood there, both aware of the quietness around us. The river moved slowly beside us, carrying bits of leaves and twigs toward the distant bend.
Amina looked down at the water.
“It feels different today,” she said.
“The river?”
“Yes.”
I glanced at the surface.
“It changes every day.”
“That’s what I like about it,” she said. “It never stays the same.”
Her words reminded me of something she had said the day before—that she simply noticed what was already there.
We began walking along the riverbank, our steps slow and unplanned. The path curved gently through the trees, patches of sunlight breaking through the leaves and scattering across the ground.
A dog barked somewhere in the distance. The fisherman we had seen earlier lifted his line from the water, shaking his head before casting it again.
“Do you live nearby?” I asked.
“Just a few streets from here,” she said. “My aunt’s house.”
“So you’re not from this town?”
She shook her head.
“I’ve only been here a few months.”
That explained why I hadn’t seen her before.
The town was small enough that you eventually recognized most faces.
“Do you like it here?” I asked.
She thought about it for a moment.
“I do,” she said finally. “It’s quiet. In the city everything moves too fast.”
“You’ve lived in the city before?”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re stuck here with rivers and trees,” I teased.
She laughed softly.
“I wouldn’t call that being stuck.”
Her laugh was quiet but warm, the kind that made the morning feel lighter.
We reached a part of the river where the bank widened slightly. A few flat stones rested near the water’s edge, perfect for skipping across the surface.
I picked one up.
“Do you know how to skip stones?” I asked.
“A little,” she said.
“Watch this.”
I flicked the stone across the water.
One bounce.
Two.
Three.
Four.
It sank on the fifth.
Amina clapped lightly.
“That was impressive.”
I handed her another stone.
“Your turn.”
She crouched slightly and tossed it toward the water.
The stone dropped immediately with a small splash.
She laughed at herself.
“That was terrible.”
“It takes practice,” I said.
She tried again.
This time the stone skipped twice before sinking.
Her eyes lit up with excitement.
“Did you see that?”
“I did.”
She tried once more, determined to beat her last attempt. The stone skipped three times before disappearing beneath the surface.
“Three!” she said proudly.
I raised my hands in surrender.
“Okay, you’re improving fast.”
We continued walking after that, talking about small things—favorite books, the strange habits of people in town, the way mornings felt different from evenings by the river.
The conversation flowed easily.
It felt natural.
As if we had known each other longer than two days.
Eventually we reached the wooden dock where I usually sat alone.
Amina stepped onto the planks carefully, testing their strength before walking further out.
The dock creaked softly beneath her feet.
She sat near the edge and looked down at the water.
“Do you ever wonder where it ends?” she asked.
“The river?”
She nodded.
“Sometimes.”
“And?”
“It eventually meets the sea.”
She stared at the moving current as if imagining the long journey ahead.
“That’s beautiful,” she said quietly.
I leaned against one of the wooden posts, watching the sunlight spread wider across the water.
For the first time in a long while, the river didn’t feel like a place of solitude.
It felt like the beginning of something.
Something small.
Something quiet.
But something important.
After a while Amina stood up.
“I should go,” she said.
“So soon?”
“My aunt will start wondering where I disappeared to.”
I nodded.
She stepped off the dock and turned back toward the path, but before leaving she paused.
“Will you be here tomorrow?” she asked.
“Probably,” I said.
She smiled again.
“Good.”
Then she walked away along the narrow trail, disappearing slowly behind the trees.
I stayed there for a long time after she left.
Watching the river.
Listening to the quiet sounds of the morning.
And wondering why the world suddenly felt a little brighter than it had the day before.
Next Episode: The Quiet Habit
— Mavin Simai