A story about a fox

Should
Should you read the things you have written, before writing again?
Should you listen to music - a passion? St John
Or to the sound of your breath and your keys
Clacking

Should you prompt the writing
Tie it
To a lack?
To a lake, I meant to say :)
(Emoticons are valid)

Once upon a time, there was a fox. They grew up in a city, in the warm lights of a street trotting down by midnight, the silence of a midweek sleepless gaze. But they were tied, it seems, to a lack. When? From birth - the litter crawling softly in the burrow, the knowing smells, the accepting glances, that that one - that one - was tied to a lack?

No. To a lake. It is okay.

Or was it sprung upon them, one night (or day! Days can be grey too) as they made their way to the outskirts of the city (so small! It is really more of a town) and the hedges took on unlawful significance and everything drew them there, made clear their body in its truth and bindings and showed them their lack.

Lake?
No. Lack.

They had to guard it - the lack. It was important, to preserve it, a museum coding holding the space that only they could make. Adventurers came, questing, old sofas and bin bags and condoms and wrappers and once - once! - even a tumble drier, but the fox had followed the hedges (yes, it was the hedges) and knew how to protect their lack. They fought, claws, teeth, fur caught in the pickup truck, and the lack grew shining (no swords here, nothing to break the surface, nothing but the sky

)

It was a lake. Deep with reflections.