Mists, shimmering silver fingers, rose over the pale green water of the lake.
Now, more than a decade later, she\'s working at a job she hates and is tired of the life that playing by the rules has dealt.
So, when her father left when she was twelve years old, promising to return, she waited.
Breen Kelly had always been a rule follower.
They twined and twisted toward a sky quietly gray, while in the east, over the hills, a pink blush waited, like a held breath, to waken.
Mists, shimmering silver fingers, rose over the pale green water of the lake