Experimental Laboratory: December 5, 2015

This morning, a Saturday, a man stepped out to retrieve the paper and found a winter chill had left a thick layer of frost on the grass and a dense fog in the air. Abandoning the paper where it lay amidst the ice-limned surface, he was drawn into the winter morning by a silent lure, promising only a moment of solitude before the business of the day unfolded.

To the east, he found the tree-lined path full of the mist that had been lifted from the nearby river in the heat of the previous day and condensed through the night by the subsequent freeze.

To the west, he found the path continued in the fog, almost indistinguishable in appearance from the opposite direction.

Above, he found the contours of the moon smoothed by the intervening veil of fog, its reflected light diffracted and diffused by the particles of water. He took this opportunity to offer a rote prayer, choosing as an emissary to deliver the spoken missive the Angel of Winter Morning Fog.