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Tour break - Tromso

#24

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The boat slowed down momentarily. "Has everyone here seen a turtle before?" the instructor asked. Everyone from her group nodded in unison, including her because of Mo's stupid turtle.

"Good. More time with the sharks," she said with a wink as she pushed down on the throttle and the boat powered on to the deep blue.

She didn't tell anybody where she was going and nobody gave enough of a shit to ask. It had been a long tour and everyone was just tired of pretending to care about anything except the next city so she bought a plane ticket under a fake name and found a woman with a boat who looked her over once and didn't say a word and that was good enough because permission's a made up thing when you're that tired and the ocean was out there waiting.

Tired wasn't even the word for it anymore. Tired from the nights that dragged on and on, tired from all the random fucks, tired from letting it happen and calling it living.

No words came out of her mouth when they handed her the gear and pointed to the blue water stretching out under the bright Tromso sky. She thought about how a person could spend their whole life on land and never know what weight feels like except in the last moments before giving up. Maybe she was overdue for it. She figured it'd take one hundred and thirty five seconds, give or take a cough or a scream. Fuck it. Always fuck it. Under the waves it was quiet, the world narrowed to the cold stitching its teeth into her skin, the bubbles leaping from her mask, the slow animal of her breath.