This morning I am itching to compose a bit more and bolster that word count. So I’m going to cheat a bit and just write here (in italics for ease of separation):

A sheet of ice resting atop a pond can appear quite solid if you are looking at it from far away. Seth had always hoped to encounter ice that was thick enough to trespass upon, even for a minute. But it seemed that the ponds and large puddles he encountered on the farm could only manufacture the thinnest of icy glazes — the kind that snapped or disappeared after the slightest tap with the toe of a boot. Seth never had the opportunity to bravely, or naively, step out into the center or slide across to the other side. The water would not allow him to be on its surface. Seth Hallward was destined to exist in the depths.