by Jo Varnish Paul Vulpe My foot was hurting. I had landed awkwardly running through the woods, a root emerging, thick and twisted, and I had misjudged it. Or, I rolled my ankle playing basketball the night before. Under the lights at the high school, the air thick with heat, fireflies shining on and off, on and off, over the field next to the court. My foot was hurting. I was sitting on the dock, kicking the skin of the lake water with my good foot, my hurting foot submerged