Dive

The ocean knows me. It knows the weight I carry, the grief stitched so tightly into my bones that I'm not sure where it ends and I begin. I come back to it every night, like a habit I never learned to break, drifting between what was and what is, between wanting and giving up. This is where Anthony disappeared. This is where the world swallowed him whole. And because of that, it feels like the only place I still belong. The boat sways beneath my feet as I move closer to the edge. It creaks softly, familiar, almost comforting. The wind slides across my skin, gentle and cool, like a goodbye that lingers too long. Below me, the water stretches endlessly, dark, wide, breathing in slow, steady waves. It whispers things I don't let myself fully understand. It promises answers. Or maybe peace. If I go deep enough, I think, if I stop fighting it, maybe I'll find him. Maybe he's still down there, frozen in the version of him I remember best. Arms open. That crooked smile. Eyes warm and certain, like he always knew where I belonged even when I didn't. I close my eyes and breathe in the sharp scent of salt. It fills my lungs, burns just a little. Then I step forward. The cold hits instantly, vicious and unforgiving. It knocks the air from my chest as I sink beneath the surface. The water curls around me, heavy and insistent, tugging me downward. For a moment, it feels almost kind as if it's holding me, guiding me toward the place I've imagined so many times. Toward him. My body relaxes as the silence settles. The world narrows. And just as I begin to drift... "Serene." The sound slices through me. His voice. Not loud. Not panicked. Just steady. Certain. The way he used to say my name when he wanted me to listen. My chest tightens. My body moves before my thoughts can catch up. Panic explodes through my limbs as I thrash upward, fighting the pull of the water. When I break the surface, I gasp like it's my first breath ever, choking, coughing, shaking. My hands slam against the side of the boat, fingers slipping on the wet wood before finally gripping tight. I haul myself up, clumsy and desperate, collapsing onto the deck in a shivering heap. The cold clings to me as I lie there, staring at the sky. My breaths come uneven, too fast. The stars blur together above me, trembling just like I am. My heart won't stop pounding. I'm still here. I squeeze my eyes shut, swallowing the familiar ache in my throat, and whisper the words I always do, the promise I never keep, the lie that keeps me going. "Tomorrow, then."