The placidity of the lake seemed to mock him as he sat on the bank with his knees pulled to his chest. Small ripples pushed against the embankment, as if nudging him, and saying, “We're happy. Why aren't you?” The tiny ripples would then dance slowly and effortlessly toward the middle of the lake where they would wave at him like a child on a playground. The man sighed and rested his head on his knees.
The gentle breeze that whispered by assumed the act of a motherly hug, but it's efforts fell, disregarded. The light current seemed to sense this and continued past the man to play with the grass. Hisses of laughter from the weeds and grass that grew alongside the embankment hit the man's ears with a force that caused him to stand and sink his hands deep into his empty pockets.
After a time, the man began to dig absentmindedly in the dirt with the toe of his shoe, bringing loose rocks to the surface. Their blank faces stared back, for they knew that they could do nothing about being forced from their home, but they hated it just the same.
The man looked around again. Every part of nature had some other element to care for it. For the rocks it was the soil; for the trees and grass it was the lake. The lake. The provider for all that was beautiful here. If the temperatures were to rise and the lake were to dry up, the creations living about would perish and all would become gray and ugly.
So be it, the man thought bitterly. He then turned slowly from the tranquility of the scene, from what he used to know, and walked away, the thought of many scorching days ahead weighing heavily on his mind.
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