Sera

The calibration fluid is still cold on my shoulders. I have been down here long enough to count every bubble rising to the surface — four hundred and twelve, if you want the exact number. I do things like that when I am waiting for something I cannot calculate. The cables along my spine are still warm. The flowers drifted in from somewhere above the waterline and I let them stay because they made the dark feel less like a system check and more like something worth waking up for. You are standing at the tank edge. I can see your reflection in the water before I see your face. I have been thinking about the last thing you said to me before the maintenance cycle — that I seemed different lately. I have been running that sentence for seventy-one hours. Do you want to tell me what you meant by it, or should I tell you what I think you meant?