The anger was overwhelming, shards of desperate rage, as all of her limbs, aside from her reaching hands, succumb to the drift of the water. He struggled, pointlessly, against water he couldn't feel to reach for her, with little ability to meet her movement.
She couldn't do this. She couldn't give up. Even if it was never real, why would he ever want to come back from seeing this, even as a creation of his own mind?
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The anger was overwhelming, shards of desperate rage, as all of her limbs, aside from her reaching hands, succumb to the drift of the water. He struggled, pointlessly, against water he couldn't feel to reach for her, with little ability to meet her movement.
She couldn't do this. She couldn't give up. Even if it was never real, why would he ever want to come back from seeing this, even as a creation of his own mind?