Drowning in a sea of snot, the breath of life is tainted by its aqueous scent. The pool is clear, but slow and slimy. It rises past my eyeballs, and my mind begins to panic as my lungs begin to starve.
My mouth is agape like a fish out of water, vainly inhaling in panic. The sea widens in response, raging. The salty liquid slushes all around me, and my vision is blurred with slime.
I hold my breath and hope tomorrow's sun dries the flood and drains the fluid. I pray for a formidable drought. I want to feel the sea's floor break and bend like beef jerky.
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