She didn’t like to look at the body in the water. But she didn’t regret killing her.

The clouds had been charcoal grey that

day, and the lake had been much the equivalent in colour. They drove to the lake. Usually, they went for morning swims in it, though that day the air was frigid and the water looked to murky and cold.

So instead they just talked like old friends do and together it felt like all the laughter had returned to the desolate empty atmosphere.

To an on-looker they would of looked like the most content and casual friends. But a friend does not murder their friend. Through long sips of coffee, she forged a plan in her mind and at precisely 2:14pm the next day the body of the ‘friend’ was found in the deep, dark depths of the lake.