6. In the Curvature of Time

Clouds of bubbles billow around your falling body.

The tropical sun is muted, but still vibrant this close to the water’s surface.

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Drowned bouquets of once-dried flowers drift down with you, slowly, following the rules of magic. Vortices of petals in little tornadoes (their fragrances kept secret).

[ Recall the last time you remember completely letting go ] —

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Sparkling orange sunbeams cushion your descent underwater. Light defies gravity at these speeds. You extend your arms in gradual embrace, like ink dipped in an aquarium.

Whatever explosion occurred, it continues to scatter blossoms across your periphery. Your view of the sky sloshes through the waves.