It was isolated. Very isolated. No one for miles and miles.
That was what she wanted, what she’d planned for.
And what she needed.
The house was almost on an island. Just a rickety wooden bridge led to the lakeside.
Otherwise, just water. She could hear it lapping, gently.
On the rocks below.
She unpacked her things. Not much. Who would need much here, alone?
No-one to please, no-one to dress up for.
No-one to dress for.
Just her, the house and the elements; the water, the sky and the sound of nothing much.
She breathed in the cold air. Threw her arms wide.
She was part of it.
She had all the time she wanted now, for this would be her final journey.
She would simply be swallowed up.
Into the landscape.