I stand at the edge of the beach, where the waves curl lazily onto the shore, brushing against my feet before the sand slips away beneath me, pulled back by the tide. The night stretches endlessly in front of me, as the salty scent of the sea fills my lungs. I squint into the horizon, listening to the hiss of the waves, the rhythm a quiet counterpoint to the distant chirping of crickets.
A soft breeze ruffles my skin, and without thinking, I break into a run, heading straight for the sea. I leap over the smaller waves, my pace never slowing, even as the icy water climbs higher, swallowing my legs until it reaches my stomach. I gasp at the shock of the cold, but it doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. The sharp splash of water against my body clashes with the stillness around me—an unexpected interruption to the quiet world.
Soon, the water is up to my neck, and I dive beneath the surface. As I sink beneath the surface, the world stretches out, a brief moment that feels like it lasts forever. When I surface, I float on the surface of the water which interconnects with the rest of the world as I listen to the sounds of the night. The cold against my skin is like thousands of tiny needles pricking at me, sharp but somehow soothing. I turn my face into the water, and the wind amplifies the sting.
The waves, gentle now, carry me toward the shore, and I let myself drift, my thoughts quieted by the constant pull of the tide. I feel the pull of the waves again, and before I can think, I dive back under, letting the water swallow me whole, everything else fading away.