Emerging from the water, phantom foregone hair, snarl spreading across my long, white back. Lifting my hand and the waves subside. Parting waters, parted lips. Now, everything will pause. Now, will I stop? This is how I feel about fish. We’ve got to swim deeper. The first possible route is to break some mirrors. Did you see that dorsal?
The reflection is careful not to move. A bead of sweat slips down the nape of an unseen neck, a chill passing like a metaphoric ghost. Reflection gathers strength as the moments accrue. Reflection’s shoulders tense, struggle to escape from that cold, blank stare. We used to be connected, her and I.
One eye on the mirror, spreading a line of salt across the threshold. Are you here? Where are you? No result, no sound. Reflection is making me blush. Checking this progress, only a quiet and lonely condensation is hanging. Reflection shakes off the mist clinging to her guise, pulling bits of glass out of her hair. That door is closed, Now, things will get worse. All we both do is watch.
Starting with the memories, things we had saved (things we had killed). Secrets we had to hold. Sweeping up these fragments. Will they lead us somewhere? Will we allow this lead, to the terrible edge? Beyond which, water assume shapes. Water is without will.