A river runs close by.
Sometimes, we go together. I paddle at the edges while you swim deftly forward. You covet its spiralling depths, embracing the undulating void as you leave the land behind.
You emerge dripping, almost drowned, but re-submerge before you’re dry.
My heart sinks as you plummet.
Jo Withers writes poetry and short stories from her home in South Australia. You can follow Jo on Twitter.