The lake was like black glass that night. And under the glass there were dolphins. They broke the surface, however, but no shattering occurred. Not like with real glass, the clear kind one looks through or drinks from. Now the Moon bathed the dolphins in White Light and they froze for a moment, too long, like someone had a magic stopwatch that stopped time. Then, they turned back down into the murky, black glass of the lake; making a backward sucking sound as the water absorbed them into its eternal and feminine embrace. We heard Chopin then - a nocturne - arpeggios in some minor key or other, defying time signatures and sinking into the crushing melancholy and the death of a friend.
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