Sorrow Swimmer

She stared out into the ocean, with saltwater almost identical to that which she was looking at in her eyes. She blinked once, twice and wished that instead of her eyelids, she had shutters and that her eyes were cameras so that she could capture the view in front of her. The dimming sunlight glinted off the water like a bonfire throwing sparks. She still had a couple of hours before the sun would completely go down. She tried to breathe with the rhythm of the waves, so that the intake of her breath would make clean oxygen wash upon her brain like the water on the shore. The sound of her breath would coincide with the wshhhhh of the waves and that way moments of silence were achievable.

She opened her mouth to get even more air into her lungs, as if she were going to shout and she may have done so, but the wind pushed her hair as deep as it could into her mouth. She sat there. Stunned. She slowly pulled her hair out of her mouth and looked at it. She could see it, wet, glistening in the outline made by the sun. Suddenly, she felt dirty and slimy. She got up and ran to the ocean, so fast her throat almost bled because she was breathing so hard. Disregarding the fact that she had her clothes on, that the undertow was strong, or that the sun was going down, she ran straight into the water. It was cold. It was so cold, that she wasn’t sure if she tripped on the resistance of the water or the temperature. She exhaled and golden bubbles flitted to the surface like dragonflies. Her body sank lower and lower. She got colder and her skin shrank.

She opened her eyes and her tears were indistinguishable from everything around her. It was as if she had cried the world into existence. She wondered what it would be like to breathe in and stay underwater forever. She tried, but got too frightened and ended up drinking almost a pint of water. Both fire and water surged out of her eyes, nostrils, and mouth as she coughed and choked. She had broken surface. She took in some of the air, which now, after being underwater for so long, stunk. It was not as clean as she was, and in its jealousy, it assaulted her nose. Both this and the amount of saltwater she had drunk were too much. She wretched a few times, and vomited in the shallows. The current took it away from her and she watched it dissipate. Now she was clean, but empty. And she was wet.

She stood up; her hair looking soggy and miserable, and started walking back towards where she was sitting before. She paused, realizing the sun was still up and warming her back. Her clothes hung, they draped, they clung, and they pulled. They pulled her body down towards the sand. She resisted, and stood some more in the warmth of the sun. Her jeans, as dark as a bruise, and drunk with ocean water, grabbed her hips for support. Without her consciously knowing it, she slowly sank to her knees. Now, with her back warm, and strength sapped from holding her clothes up, she was tired. She knew it would be dangerous to sleep on the beach, and wet like this, she could become very ill. She managed to get up again and started walking towards something. Towards warmth, or something familiar. Her head ached from the cold. She put a hand on the crown of her head. She felt a crunching sensation. Her hair was encrusted with salt and sand. She found this funny and thought she was smiling, but when she passed by a window, she found that she was not. She was too tired to smile.