Emilie hovered at the edge of her world, caught between what was known, and a question.

Behind her, the house. Solid, permanent, as much as such things could be.

Before her, the fog. Was the lake just past the fog, as she knew logically it should be, or was it gone completely, as some deeper sense argued? If she were to keep walking into the fog, she would find it. Of course she would.

Except, to walk toward where the lake should be would mean losing sight of the house. And then the house would not exist.

No, that was silly. The house would still be there. Just because she could not perceive it, it would not stop existing.

Nevermind the voice in her gut telling her it would. The voice asking her: Would she readily trade house for lake?

None of this was sensible. She took a step forward toward the lake.

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Emilie looked back. The house was still there.

She stepped two steps down the gentle slope, which she had thoughtlessly marched down countless times in her life. This time, she hesitated. She glanced back again.

The house remained, its windows too numerous to be eyes in a face, and yet...

She took three steps this time before turning back. The glass panes of the windows were less black in colour now to her perception, more silvered over with white fog. The house was still there, but the mist was thickening between her and it.

Four steps. Emilie turned and froze in place. Now she could only make out the shape of the house. All colours were gone.

She listened past the quickening of her breath for the hush of the lake, or the gentle lapping against the stony bank.

Nothing. It wasn't there.

She could always hear that sound. Even from the house, and in the early hours of the morning, lying in bed, she should have been able to hear the sounds of the lake. Yet here, on the naked grass of the lawn which rolled down at the gentlest of inclines, she heard nothing. The only possible explanation was that the lake was no longer there. She could wander downhill in this fog forever and ever, and be lost, and never know the way back.

Emilie turned and ran back to the house. Nevermind if someone saw her ungainly gait. They might think her strange. Better that than the fate of being lost in the fog.

Her hands touched the solid frame of the door, and the house swallowed her.