Two Years of Stories. (This was the first one)

She watched them swirl and nudge each other. Traces her frantic thoughts to the swirl of their tails. Always drinking water. Swimming without turning into a prune. Must be fun in the summer. Miserable in the winter. She shivers at the thought,  and waits for the crunch of tires and the sweep of the headlights, tamping down fleeting images of mishaps on the highway.