The ship didn’t seem this big from the outside.
We go down stairs.
Old chandeliers sway in nonexistent breezes.
She pulls me further.
The water is now up to my knees. She moves fast, seemingly annoyed that I slow her down.
I’ve lost my shoes somewhere.
The water is over my head.
My feet can’t find the ground.
She won’t let go of my hand.
I open my eyes and through the murky water I can see her smiling.
Through the water I can hear her singing.
She won’t let go.
She pulls me deeper and the water goes black.