she stitches the gown in layers of purple, four different shades of dark and hand-dyed to suit her exact criteria. it all but ruins her eyes; she stares so long, so hard at the stitching in fading light, rousing herself when she truly cannot see any more. embroiders patterns across in gold, luscious patterns crafted …
surface
she dives into the water, the undisturbed pool barely rippling as she breaks the surface.
the vortex
this happens again and again.
