One swims in the syrup. One breathes it in through all the minutes and the hours and the days. The days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into years and the syrup turns to death.
I have been dead for many years.
She is the seed, the sapling, the flowering plant, the leafless husk.
Sarah died. Emma disappeared. Everyone leaves. Everyone goes away.
She won’t. She will stay. Forever.
The water rises, snapping the strings and clearing the fog. She does not hear him. She does not feel him. She is free.
She is Shannon, she is Bella, she is Jason.
She is Seth.