Duck Lake falling apart

briggs stood at the edge of the lake, the water dark and still beneath the fading light. the air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant pine, familiar in a way that settled deep in his bones.
he exhaled slow, watching the ripples shift as the wind skimmed the surface. his reflection was fractured, distorted—just another thing that didn’t quite fit right.
didn’t matter. wasn’t here for that.
his gaze swept the shoreline, sharp, assessing. quiet now, but quiet never lasted.

AW!