Just a face in the pond

I walked Down the street in the early morning light.
Juggling books, phone, scone, and coffee. It splashes and burns leaving my hand red and throbbing.
The sunlight shot between the buildings, bouncing off cars as they passed slowly. 
I caught a glimpse of a girl I knew. 
A girl I thought I knew. But it couldn't have been. 
This girl was tired and sad. Her head was down, shaded by her hair.
Sunglasses hid her normally bright eyes that had now turned a dull grey.
A forced half smile that cried for RELIEF replaced the gleaming space    Where ruckus laughter used to erupt.
She passed by quickly, not saying a word.
I turned the corner- looking back and she was gone. 
On that old abandoned bench, I sat. I paged through eliot's wasteland.
Closing my eyes and breathing, The cool morning air refreshed me. The sun relaxed me. I faded into a dream.
I needed something more. Desired something more. 
Heading back towards town, I contemplated Beckett. Too absurd. Something else.
Windows glared from the sunlight of the late afternoon. 
I could get more coffee, but I'd be up all night. 
Thumbing through the dusty books. Old ones crumbling like dried up leaves rested near new ones, craving to be touched and used over and over. 
Poe. That might do. Something dark.
Drifting through town that night as the fog moved in, I felt a presence. 
I turned around and saw nothing, but something stirred in the air, yet their was not even the most subtle of breezes. 
The moonlight created faint shadows that danced among the trees. 
I edged towards the pond. Just clear enough. 
I gazed down, trying to see to the bottom but Vegetation and ripples obscured my vision.
The moonlight danced on the water. There she lay at the bottom, among the rocks. Powder white, sadness frozen upon her face.
I reached in to save her. She disappeared. She is both dead and living. Staring back at me.
I call it day. Rest my head only pillow. Her face haunts my dreams. I wake, wanting no more to dream. 
And another sun rises.