Fiction: The Lake View

This August Words for Wednesday prompts are provided by Elephant's Child over here. This week's prompt is this image and/or gentle, ordinary, cards, simple, office.

Fiction: The Lake View
The mist is always there, just above the water, over the trees and blending in with the rest of the landscape. Its gentle screening makes one believe life is simple, ordinary. Or so the woman in 12B believes as she looks down from the windows of a high-rise building. She sits with a hot cup of black coffee and an empty mind. On this gray morning, there is the same light mist over the landscape. A man appears. The knapsack on his back weights him down as he walks. Little by little, he wades into the lake until he is knee deep, then waist deep and soon his head disappears below the surface. Is he really gone? She waits for a bit hoping he would return. But the surface of the water settles into a calm state. There is a beeping sound. She closes her eyes and rubs them. When she opens them, she is lying in bed. It must have been a dream. The clock on the dresser is beeping. It says 6:30.  
    As usual, she gets ready for work. After she gets her coffee, she goes to the windows and looks out. Below, the mist is there. A man appears with a knapsack on his back. He wades into the water. What is he doing? "Stop!" she cries out.
    Knee deep in the water, the man stops and looks up. Has he heard her? How could he have heard her considering the wide distance between them and the window panes are doubled layered. And yet, when he speaks, she hears his words. "Why stop? Can a man take his own life without interference?"
    Where did the words come from? She could not have heard him from so far away and yet, she somehow knows it's the man who has spoken. "Not when he really shouldn't be doing it," she says out loud.
    He lifts his head up. "It is my business. None of yours." He turns his head here and there. "Where are you?" She is in a building beside many similar buildings. He wouldn't find her unless he knows where to look. Through the light mist, his features aren't too clear to her from her viewpoint though she can make out a dark beard. She shakes her head. It's a dream and yet, she knows she's wide awake. "It's my business if you're doing it in front of me," she says and sighs. She doesn't need to tell him where she is and if she does, would it make a difference? 
    "Then I shall do it when you're not looking. Go away from wherever you are and let me do my business in private." The man is still searching, moving his head about looking every which way.
    "I can't. I won't. Why do you want to kill yourself?" There's no point in trying to be careful with her words. He certainly doesn't seem to care.
    The man drops his head and doesn't respond.
    She waits.
    Then he says, "It's just— everything's so hard."
     "Hard? Lots of people have it hard and none of them are killing themselves." She releases a sigh and looks down into her coffee. A swirl of blackness, shaking as her hand shakes.
    "But I've lost everything — my fiancée, my business, everything I had ever worked for. How can I carry on when I have nothing?" He wipes his eyes with the back of his hands
    "You have nothing?" She balls her free hand into a fist and slams the armrest of her wheelchair. "You can still stand on your own two feet. Not many can say the same."
    "You don't understand! My life is over!" He cradles his head between his hands.
    "I understand very well. You're a coward, that's what you are. You are taking the easy the way out. If you're not brave enough to deal the cards you have been given, then I suppose I shouldn't stop you from taking your own life. I'm going away now so you can do your business in private!"
    Why does she even care? She uncurls her hand and releases a gentle sigh. She turns away from the windows. Slowly, she takes a sip of the coffee. Its coldness runs through her.
    "Wait! Come back!" Does he sound anxious? He has wanted her to look away, didn't he? She turns back. He is turning around and stepping out of the lake. Water drips from his body as he removes the knapsack off his back and drops it onto the ground. He sits down and hangs his head. The mist have cleared away and the image of the man is sharper, less like a dream.
    Her phone beeps as a reminder it's time to work but she dismisses it. She can start a little late. She puts the cup on the little table beside her.
    The man looks up. He wipes his face and pushes back his hair with his hand. "Are you there?"
    Let him stew away. What does she care? But she isn't the kind to let others suffer needlessly. "I'm here," she says.
    He looks up. "Why do you care if I live or die?"
    She have no answer. Is it not normal to care for a fellow human being? "I just do," she says.
    He nods his head. "You just do. I guess that's— reasonable."
    She snickers. "As oppose to being unreasonable?"
    "Perhaps you can tell me how is it that I can hear you when I'm not even sure you are not in my head." He is looking up but whether he can see her or not, she isn't sure but he is facing her direction.
    She laughs. "I'm not sure you're not in my head either."
    He laughs too. Brief. Sad. But perhaps she reads too much into things.
    For a while, they are both silent. Then he stands up and picks up his knapsack. "I'm going now. Don't worry, I will not try this again anytime soon. I need time to think. Do you suppose you will be here when I come back later? I don't think we will talk like this again but I like talking to you."
    She smiles. "I'm always here." She looks across the room at her small work space - a desk, a comfy chair and a file cabinet - the rest of the space is empty. Where else would she be going?
    "I'll come back later. Perhaps we'll talk or perhaps we won't. Goodbye." He waves.
    Not knowing what to do, she waves back. He walks away and passes out of her view. She washes out her cup and then pauses at the windows again. The mist is back and everything looks simple, ordinary, just like before.