As I rounded the hill top and started for the other side, I could see a small pond shimmering in the icy wind and her easel standing quietly alone beside it. Panic gripped my body as I bounded down the slope.
At the easel, all I found were her black leather shoes.
I looked at the painting. It was incomplete, smudges of brown beginning the trees and a deep blue-black mass representing the pond. The water seemed strange. I leaned in closer. Floating in middle of the painted pond, swirled in blue-white-yellow was the word that stopped my heart. Help!