* * *
I am dying in the deep sea again today.
The sound of water filling your ears and the conversation between the fish in it.
The little whale beckoned to me, and the dancing seaweed wrapped around my wrists and ankles.
Don't go. Don't go.
In that deep water, I, who have no gills, feel water filling my stomach.
Living, breathing fish send me an unknown frequency.
My hands just slowly stirred the water, pushing bubbles to the surface.
And then my body was pushed deeper and deeper into the abyss.
Above, he pushed my shoulder and tousled my hair,
Below, he grabbed my arm and broke it.
His eyes, heavy from the water, pulled his eyelids shut, letting out a hazy, deep-sea-like stream.
I tried to shake off death as if I was shaking off sleepiness from the salt water clinging to my eyelashes.
The breathing fish passed through my clothes and scattered, breathing lightly.
Barely out of breath.
I was having a very hard time surviving.
The hem of the clothes, which had become heavy from drinking water, quietly headed towards the deeper place.
It sank.
His strong hands tightened around my waist.
Quiet. Quiet.
It disappeared.