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The surface of the lake was black, glassy, and so silent in winter’s day. The cracks and fissure riddling its surface showed the ice must be at least eight inches thick. It was hard to imagine a day when it would be fluid again, lapping against the shores. The cold wind brushed their cheeks turning them pink in the evening light. Even in the chill, she could not help but smile.

“How surreal it is to walk on water,” she thought. “Everyone should get to walk on water.”

 

 

 

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