I went down to the creek after a storm. The water was high and rushing, temporary waterfalls and pools making it easy to imagine I was exploring a new place instead of wandering the trail I had walked a thousand times before. A branch of an apple tree was hanging low over the water, newly broken. Little red apples twisted and rattled in the racing water, and I bent the branch free and let it sink into the creek. Now maybe someone down there could pretend they were somewhere else as well.