What happened this morning on the beach was an incredible piece of good fortune. This is even more true because I was at fault.
My rings are loose on my fingers since I got into CrossFit. Taking them off before a dip in the sea should have been a standard part of the process. But I was lazy.
My stomach burnt when the metal slid from my right index.
What followed was an automatic reaction. I scooped at the waves in a hasty, desperate gesture. Something cold and solid touched my skin. When I pulled my hand out, the ring lay in the center of my palm. I slipped it back on, delighted with the blind luck of the Universe.
The drive back from the beach took forty minutes. My silver wreathed finger tapped on the steering wheel in time to my playlist. Considering the hot weather the mass of pedestrians on the pavement was not surprising, even if many wore thick clothes.
But when one of them stepped into the road I realised there may be a problem. Water soaked their heavy coat and sturdy jeans. They looked at me, their pale lips moving up and down. But saltwater rather than words poured from their mouth.
I do not know if their hands slapping on my windscreen was deliberate or accidental.
The rest of the drive was shaky. Multiple flicks through the radio revealed nothing about a disease, but getting inside my house was now a priority.
Perhaps my car engine is still running. Haste ruined my usual checks.
Their upstairs bedroom has a lock. I have never had anyone test how strong the lock is. I can hear them coughing and gurgling in the corridor outside. I twisted my ring so much it fell off again.
Then I noticed the symbol on the inner surface. A jug pouring water surrounded by a circle of fish. The ring must be the same one I put on this morning.
Every other feature is identical, and the time spent underwater was less than a meditative breath. But how then did that symbol appear?
I wish I had time to think. But damp hands hammer upon the door.
