A Crisp Impression

The house was quiet, so I pushed open the low porch door and stepped outside into the crisp afternoon air. Near the bottom step, a thin sheet of clear ice covered a shallow puddle in the soil. I paused to watch the quiet gray sky reflected in it, still and undisturbed. Carefully, I stepped down onto the edge. The crust yielded under my weight with a tiny, sharp snap, splintering into fine silver fractures beneath my feet. I knelt low, resting my crystalline fingertips on the cold surface, watching tiny trapped bubbles shimmer along each quiet hairline crack.