She sent out a distress call from the depths
Far below the surface, with 120 feet of seawater between me and the sun, the only colors that remain are the blues and blacks. When I shine my pocket dive-light on the reef, it becomes a paintbrush, reds and pinks and oranges popping in the small circle of unfiltered light, the black lion fish flaunting its toxic frills in full tiger-technicolor.
Sounds carry in water, but there are few of them. I distinctly hear the snap of my air-tank O-ring giving way, the thunder like a reverse waterfall of my air free-flowing from the blown valve in a silver column rushing toward the distant...
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