She went deeper and the boat receded. She worked her chains. The world was locks and water, but she knew the key and smiled as she sank.
The waves came and went leaving constant patterns in the surf. A message: Help me. The beach litter was a map of the seafloor.
He swam for hours into the darkening sea, found her lying in the coral. You came, she said. He exhaled for the last time.
The sea was air, the coral home. Their love the fish, the legs they grew as they evolved back to land to invent boats, chains and locks.
I posted this to my Twitter feed about a year ago and found it in my files. So, a rerun.