As he stood looking in the mirror his thoughts began to reflect back to the fifteen minute drive to work that morning. “Is this possible?” he wondered.Just minutes before he remembered thinking “I have the time to take the scenic route over the Dam today, so there’s no reason to take 515.” As he drove across the four lane highway and used the back way through the hills and valleys of the north Georgia mountain by-ways, he noticed that like most spring mornings it was mild and the southern humidity gave a thickness to the air. Even the engine noise from his SUV seemed stifled.As he passed over Blue Ridge Dam, he saw the TVA pump house and thought, “That structure kind of looms out of the fog like that castle in the last scenes of Monty Python’s Holy Grail.” As he continued to drive across the damn, he scanned left and right, “Well you can see some patches of still water over on the lake side.” He looked to his right into the Toccoa river valley. “It’s too damned foggy to see the river though.” He saw the small boat under the TVA pump house and fell into a day dream, “Just yesterday I was fishing out on that lake.” Then he was pulled out of the dream when he saw what appeared to be someone falling overboard followed by a splash.“What the hell was that?” he said out loud.He pulled off at the dam turn about, turned off the engine and jumped out of his vehicle. He ran across the road to the concrete abutment and peered out over the lake to see if anyone was in need of help. He heard the faint sound of a small boat engine heading away from the dam, but saw and heard nothing more. He stood by the wall for a few minutes peering into the fog as it enveloped the spot where he had seen the splash and after several cars went by decided, “Well I can’t see anything now. I might as well get to work.” He walked across the road, got back into his Trooper turned the ignition key, put the vehicle into drive and continued the remainder of his short journey to the office.When he arrived at work his co-workers did not seem to recognize him and drifted past him as though he wasn’t there. He noticed some dirt on his hands. “Probably from the Dam abutment when I was looking at the lake. I’d better wash my hands.” He went to the water closet and turned on the tap to wash his hands at the sink. They felt cold, clammy and wet before they ever touched the luke warm water. He looked into the mirror only to see that his face was ashen, his eyes bloodshot and his lips were blue. The clothing he had on seemed to be wet and torn. As he stared at this reflection his eyes widened at the realization that just minutes before it had been he who had been tossed into the lake.