|I am a priestess of the lake, of the Infinite.|
Late afternoon: only a few old men at the bar drinking and talking quietly. Waitresses for the evening shift begin to arrive. One stands a moment at the far end of the dining room and looks out the window facing the lake. Snow is falling. The lake is completely obscured, but still customers will ask for tables near the window. A few early diners begin to arrive, then others. Soon the room is filled with sounds, people talking, the rattle of dishes, the waitresses hurrying about. The lake is a great silence beneath all the noise. In their hurry the waitresses don’t look out the window. Yet, they are in her service, silent a moment as they fill the glasses with water.