I am not drowning, I am sunk. Floating downwards into a bland abyss. I waited for you to come for me. I waited for you to respond. You didn’t.
The ropes are tight around my ankles, and the block was finding it’s way to the bottom of the murky pond. It was just past dawn. There was bustling in the rushes by the geese that had just returned to the comforts of the village after a hard flight north.
Just as a dog came bounding up over the water’s edge, the last of my bubbles emerged.