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The Weight of Water
A woman returns to her drought-stricken hometown to settle her grandmother's estate and finds the lake giving up more than old folklore.
Mara had learned to read the reservoir the way other people read faces. That morning it was low and grey, showing the old stone steps that only appeared in drought years, the ones her grandmother said led nowhere good. She counted them out of habit — eleven, then the water — and told herself it meant nothing.
It was only when she saw the second set of footprints on the bank, smaller than hers, still filling with water at the edges, that she understood she wasn't the first person to come looking that morning.
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