She wishes she could believe he did no wrong.

Feeling she lost more water.                    Her hero lost his way.

Forget the drowning world, drying out.

Fingers fiddle, nails on skin, skin on leg, sweaty thumbs. Then they tap: ring-finger to pinky, ring-finger to pinky. Tap, nail, tap, tap, beat. Her knuckles clench against her knees. Squirm.

I don’t know where I heard it, but I was once told that each person who enters your life comes like a tide. Basically, what they were saying is people pull us. Have the potential to drown us.