He walked carefully across the frozen lake, his boots pressing lightly against the slippery surface. The ice was white and bluish, smooth and silent beneath him.

Then, a thunderbolt struck.

He froze in place. Small cracks appeared, thin and delicate at first, then branching out like veins. He was far from the shore. He took a small step back—then stopped. He had wanted this. He had planned this. To lay down, to let the ice give way, to sink into the freezing darkness.

A beautiful death.

Joining the lake.

He looked up. The mountains surrounding the lake were green, untouched. The world was breathtaking. And at that moment, a thought crept in.

Do I want to stop seeing this beauty?

Maybe just a few more hours. Just a little longer to take it all in.