Very soon, it is at my neck, moving higher, slowly, to touch my lips. My mouth, which till now was used to exhale, is inundated with water, tasting sweet, beautiful. My throat, carrying the water down my stomach, flooding my lungs simultaneously and all the while, the level rising above my nose, touching my eyes.

My body keeps standing. It feels as if the water wants to consume me, at my comfort, at my satisfaction. The water does not sting inside my body, nor do I feel any restraint in my breathing.

I am now submerged, completely, my eyes are wide open, seeing through the once dark layers of water, now clear as crystal from within. I breathe the water, I move through the water. I live inside this world now, outside, very far from yours.

Its not the end, its just the beginning.

He died the year before. She didnt know, she still doesnt know, but knows that if he still lived, he would have been there for her, with her, holding her as they stood atop the cliff, breaking the continuity in the breeze, peacefully.

She knows from his words that he is no more. He wrote to her once that he would be amongst the thousand or so men that would probably confess their love to her in her lifetime. He would be the only one, if only one person did so, but if she was ever alone, afraid, broken, he would have been dead.