How to Float

The water was salty. Cold, too, but the salinity of it stung her nose each time a wave broke upon her while her skin was numb to the chill. Tiny tugs pricked at her scalp as the fish tugged at her hair, mistaking it for seaweed, but it was only temporary. They would find her.

He had left. He couldn't see shore, but he had left, swimming achingly away. The arguments had seemed silly and serious, alternating with each cresting swell that had bobbed their bodies under the scorching sun.

Finally, he had just left, picking a direction at random. Perhaps he had meant for his last words to echo in her ears, but they were filled with water. He swam away to the sound of her sputtering out salted water.It didn't matter. They would find her.

The plane had gone down two days ago; crisis alarms singing a wailing death-knell as he overcorrected an overcorrection, sending them spiraling towards the dark home of vast whales and tiny minnows. The others knew their flight path - surely they would find her.

Humpbacks crested nearby, undoubtedly on their migratory journey, a snippet she half-remembered from a childhood nature program. Their plumes reminded her of the glass and steel towers of home, of the geysers at Yosemite.Some biologist would be following them. They would find her.