short story about the water

She's kneeling alongside the canal. The ground is muddy, and her knees are cold. The only source of light is the street lamps, but she's right in between them, as much in the dark as possible. There is no mystery in this country. She leans over the water to look at her reflection. There are glimmers of light in the water, but she can't see herself. Even during the day, it's impossible to see the bottom. When children draw water, they use blue pencils. Why? They're just following the idea, they're not actually looking. She's dreamed of the water before.

Saw Caravaggio's Narcissus at the Rijksmuseum. He's overrated. She moves her face closer to the water and sees even less. Did Narcissus truly not know what he was doing? How does that story even work, does he fall into the water and drown, or does he drown in his own reflection? A sound in the distance. She's startled and tumbles into the water. FUCK. "FUCK!" The water isn't deep, but for a moment, she's completely submerged. The only water that's blue is in the pool. The thing that startled her - a passing cyclist - rushes to where she was just kneeling. He tries to help her get out of the water, but she's already scrambling over the edge by herself.

"Are you okay?"
"Yes, just cold and uncomfortable, nothing I haven't experienced before."
"What were you doing by the edge of the water? Did you lose something?"
"Yes, but now I've checked, and it's definitely not there."