Stuart did not know how long he had walked, but his numbing legs told him that it had been quite a long time. The color of sunset painted the sky, spreading as far as the eye could see—or maybe as far as he could see. On sighting a small body of water, a little pond in the middle of the street, he stopped walking and stood there with his eyes fixed on the gentle sway of the water.
Though it was built in the street, with no owner or caretaker, the water was clean. It wasn't very deep, with rounded edges surrounded by snow, as if guarding it. The water moved gently, slowly, in whatever direction the light wind took it, as if moving to a slow rhythm. He must have looked weird to the passing people around him—a thinly clothed man in winter, standing and staring at the water like he was lost in a trance.
