She stands at the edge of the wooden dock watching her breath cloud in the frigid morning air. An early morning swim, a favorite ritual.
Head down and arms out, she knifes into the water leaving hardly a splash. The mother of four stays submerged, gliding silently through the murky pond, the stress melting away.
She rises to the surface, but goes no further, her palms striking cold.
Ice. Inches thick. The entire surface sealed shut.
Panic surges. She hammers the ice from below but doesn’t make a dent.
She screams. No one hears.
She pounds again. No one comes.
