The rise and fall of your breathing is as soothing as the sound of the tide, but I’m not ignorant to the concept that I’m fishing in troubled waters. I took your bait and jumped straight into the deep end; now I’m drowning. Despite this, there’s still a comfort this deep into the water; intertwined with the kelp, this is home – but, I’ll reluctantly admit that it’s time to swim to the surface.
The grey light of the morning floods in through a gap in the curtain; an unwelcome reminder that my hydration is coming to an end. The words roll from my tongue the moment you open your eyes. It’s a string of unwanted and unwelcome words and I can’t quite get out what I want to say. In terms of metaphors, I need to tell you that it’s time for a drought.
This is a work of creative fiction, created for the prompt: morning.