The tide rose without her noticing.
She is drowning.
In an ocean of voices.

Their clashing rhythms crashes over her.
Deep.
High.
Fast.
Slow.

She imagines a bubble, like a deep-sea diver’s helmet, set squarely upon her broad shoulders.
Meant to keep the voices out.
To keep her thoughts her own.
Her own.

The voices crescendo,
The helmet is not enough.
She submits.
She loses her fight.

She and the wave.
Are.
One.