The Dark Lake

The rain falls in a steady rhythm, like a metronome set to infinity. The lake absorbs it all, tiny ripples spreading out and vanishing like they were never there. It’s good at that – taking things in, keeping them quiet.

The trees lean in, heavy with rain and the vague sense that they’re supposed to be watching over something. The mist hangs just above the surface, a soft boundary between here and there, real and almost-real.

You could stay like this forever. Floating. Weightless. The water beneath you, the sky above. Nothing pulling in either direction. Just existing. Just breathing.

Go on. The water is deep. But it won’t let you go.