The lake seemed like an ideal place to set up a store. Joggers and bikers and walkers frequented the bath that wound around the water like an outline. Even on ugly days, the shops perched like vultures around the lake saw business.
“What lake?” her friend asked.
“You know, the one down the road.”
Maggie tilted her head. “The dump?”
“No,” she said, “the lake. Come on. You must know it. There’s a bunch of other stores there.”
“I know you’re new to the area and all, but you couldn’t have gotten that lost already.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s no lake, Georgia. There used to be, sure, like, four decades ago. But it’s a landfill now, has been for a while.”
The next day, Georgia went to the lake. It was still a lake. She started walking the trail that ran around it. It was still a trail. The trees were still trees. The water was still blue.
“Welcome,” the man in the water said. “Would you like to go for a swim?” He held out his hand and for a moment, just a blink, Georgia thought she saw rotting garbage in his palm. She blinked again and it was just an ordinary hand.