Still Water
243 Words
Six months later
Somewhere in the Rockies
Elena Voss hiked a narrow trail above tree line. October had turned the aspens gold; wind carried the clean bite of coming snow. She wore sunglasses, not because the light was too bright, but because she still avoided looking too long at her own reflection in any surface that might catch her unexpectedly.
At the top of the ridge she stopped. Sat on a flat boulder. Drank water from a battered bottle.
Below her stretched a small glacial lake—mirror-flat, impossibly blue.
She stared at it for a long time.
No heartbeat answered from inside her chest.
No extra smile flickered across the water.
Just her reflection—smaller at this distance, wavering slightly with each breath of wind.
She took the old photograph from her jacket pocket. The plastic sleeve was creased now, edges soft from being carried every day.
Two little girls. Arms around each other. Smiling like the world hadn’t yet learned how to hurt them.
Elena held the photo up so it overlapped her reflection in the lake.
For a moment the two images aligned perfectly—then the wind rippled the water and everything blurred.
She exhaled.
Folded the photo carefully.
Tucked it away.
Then she stood, turned her back to the lake, and started down the trail toward the parking lot where her small SUV waited.
Behind her, the water settled again.
Clear.
Quiet.
Empty.
At least for today.
- Writer
