He reached up from navy depths, racing the rush of bubbles to the surface. Being this far underwater always gave him that feeling--you know--the one that starts around the edges of your heart and spiders outward to your limbs making them thrash for lighter space. It wasn't panic, per se, it was...it was like sitting on the edge of a cloud without a parachute. You got the sense of unknowable depth below you and could almost feel the monsters of the deep rushing for your ankles, your torso, just a taste of skin, just a toe here, a finger there.
He pushed wide arcs through the loosening wall and broke on the edge of a swell. Sliding quickly down he waited for the bite that wouldn't come. It was easy to imagine this point teeming with life. Every aquarium he had ever been to was crawling with life to twenty feet and back. But not here. Here, he was truly alone.
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