It started suddenly. It overtook her.
The depth and breadth of life and choice hit her like a wave, and with the force of the sea. She was lost. Left floating and disassembled, surrounded by piece of the life she had. Frayed bits of the bow, broken splinters of the hull, knocking against her body and scraping against her side. The anchor of the ship remained tied to her foot, dragging her under, towards the floor. She was being pulled down with each turn of the sea. Its gray mouth swallowing her. The waves, great spine of the ocean, swelling under and around her. She was overcome. And she finally gave in. Relinquished herself to the pounding tide.
Drowning wasn’t the worst way to die.
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