You are submerged in the water. Eyes lifted, slightly. Sun rays penetrate. Lips part, slightly.Gas bubbles escape. Fingers twitch, slightly. Hair strands sway.

Feeling the warmth, you start to imagine how the surface would look reflecting the beams off. You wish for your arms to reach where the shine is, but leaden bodies refuse the command. Noticing the currents manifested by the swirling wisps of your curls, your eyes widen in realisation.

Air.

You need air.

You're sure you can hold out for another second, but after that, you'd have reached your limit. Somehow, this second lasts forever.

In this second, in this still, in this silence, you hear. Unnoticeable at first, but turns instantaneously loud, then unbearable, and finally it goes wild. The dull thudding of your heart on a rampage. Help.

Where do I seek help? How do I call out to someone else when I am so, terribly alone? What can convey the idea that I am struggling to breathe, that I am surrounded but isolated at the same time, that I sense something imminent and unavoidable approaching; something I fear and yet embrace to face.

Opening your mouth wider in an attempt to scream, gas bubbles escape even more. They float and disappear and disrupt the tranquil surface above you. Stop, no, come back.

And forever ends.