A bath is like a dam: water pours in from a tap and the plug prevents its flow. Today I lay in my dammed reality, at one with the little fishes of my imagining, content in the splendour of Philip’s bathroom, at peace. I was sure the mermaid would not reappear, having not done so since that one occasion. I was so at ease I felt sure to surpass my personal best, yet it was not to be. My concentration wavered for no reason that was apparent, a dark mass pooling on the horizon of my vision, and I had no choice but to lift my head and pull the plug and hit the stopwatch.
Eight minutes and seventeen seconds.
I was disappointed and euphoric all at once. I wondered what had interrupted my focus when I heard a sound that was at first unfamiliar. I sharpened my hearing and there it was again, a hi
