The bedraggled looks, everything wet through. We escaped.

A night away. Worried dreams. Still it rained. The morning, driving across the grey dirt roads. The house that floated away. Its home discarded from its innards across the lake. A piece of lace caught on a nail. The duvet floated nearby, the air caught beneath blowing balloons of printed flowers to the surface. Brightly knitted crochet dangled off a branch, a clump of white daisies bobbed across the oil like surface of the water. Its four proud legs had crushed along with our dreams. The fantasy of shelter, of waking in this house, stretching our arms in the morning mist. The fires we were to create to warm us. Little Oscar shivered. Damply by the water's edge. A homeless puppy, on the green verge, of the dark lake.