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.