It’s crazy really how we walk around as if that momentous day will never arrive—like it’s a myth or an illusion—avoiding thinking about that instant when we will no longer exist. Maybe it’s a survival instinct. If we truly understood that death can snatch us before we’re even aware of it, we would be freaking out, desperate to avoid the inevitable, searching for a remedy that would immortalize our bodies. But it’s too late for me. Arthor and I jump over the edge, and the sudden drop makes me breathless. The wind whips against me and howls in my ears, but I keep my eyes shut and continue to squeeze Arthor’s hand, telling myself that by doing so, the impact will be less painful by doing so. As if by chance, I remember to plug my nose and not a second later, a force as hard as concrete smashes against my feet. The next thing I know, cold liquid rushes around my body, and I sink into the seemingly bottomless ocean. At first, I’m glad there are no hidden rocks I collide with, but when I continue to drop at a fast pace, it occurs to me if I don’t stop sinking, I might never make it back up.
