She stood on the opposite bank, hair tangling her face, stark against the abandoned buildings surrounding her. I couldn’t see her face, but I knew. I wanted to scream the strength of the current, gentle rapids roaring into whitewater beyond the river’s bend. It hurt crashing against rocks, the ups and downs, ins and outs, ups as downs and downs as ups. Hurt until the drowning, the letting go of any claim of control. She’d wouldn’t have been perched there if she had control.
I wanted to but I couldn’t. The water had taken away my voice, too.