the water fills my lungs.

i can’t breathe, i just can’t breathe.

my head is stuck, pulled under the water from a strong hand, one i used to trust.

bubbles and bubbles.

i’m choking, sputtering, gagging up swamp water. my legs and arms are probably caked in mud, covered.

it squelches as i try to sit up, the hand pulling me back under.

a voice brings me back. officer catrow. “rex? you good?”

“yes,” i breath in and out, suddenly not drowning. suddenly i am okay, as catrow, my husband, kisses my forehead.

“just another memory,” i whisper to him. “i’ll be fine.”

“i hear the young officers are planning you a party for your retirement.”

“oh.” i say it, voice hollow.

he keeps smiling and i try to smile back.

“are you sure you’re okay?”

“yes.”

he doesn’t press me, but i know he can see right through me as if i was a mirror.

we walk, arm in arm, to the building and through it, until i see blue balloons, floating high.

sharks and pictures of waves on the walls.

it is all too much, too consuming.

i am being pushed, falling deeper into the ground, going unconscious.

i leave the building without saying goodbye and i do not come back.