Come up for air.

4 Aug

He liked to pretend he was dead. In the deep end, he’d blow the air out of his lungs and sink slowly to the bottom. His toes would touch first, then his knees, and finally his hands. He never sank any further but remained poised, as if ready to spring.

As if springing into the abyss.

So far nobody had seen him do this,  at least no-one had tried to save him. Perhaps they had seen, but had chosen to look away. He saved himself, pushing upwards to break the surface with a rush of intake, the second, third and fourth breaths bringing him to a state close to happiness. Uplifting, literally.

It was a shame he couldn’t share his trick with the family.

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