I breathed through the tube and didn’t die, and finally I looked down and saw them. All these small fish streaking by, silvery and orange and pink, hermit crabs scuttling around the rocks, tufts of seagrass with tiny shrimp.

I told everyone, when I wrote the note I was thinking of sand.

I told everyone, when I wrote the note it was sand.

I took a deep breath, which did absolutely nothing, and stormed out of the bathroom. Then I made a beeline for the mirrored triangle bar and ordered myself a Long Island iced tea. No one here cared how old I was.

“…the purple sky like a curious peep who wishes to be invited into this bad air between you and me.”