"It didn’t seem right. It felt almost sacrilegious; breaking the peaceful and perfect, pellucid, glass surface of the lake in the early morning, dim glow. In my mind, I pictured the huge and varying array of colorful Nachtmann crystal tumblers and carafes my mother cherished and kept in a glass display in the dining room when I was growing up. For another moment I imagined the almost unfathomable horrors that would have fallen upon us, if my siblings or I had ever smashed one and disturbed its picturesque surface character, in the same manner I was currently inflicting on the lake’s pristine topwater. Tentatively, I assumed the thought was giving me chills but I soon realized it was the icy, barely thawed, bone and muscle chilling contents of the water body that I was being physically made aware of, as I waded in to catch the boat, in the superficial effulgence of a headlight I nabbed from my work truck before heading out that morning."