He said the first time he ever saw me, really truly saw me, I was underwater. His vision of me is the only vision of me, because he is the only one who could see, I couldn’t breathe above the water.
When we met he lived in a small garden level apartment with a shower barely big enough for one, but he liked to take me in there anyway, and fuck me from behind in the early mornings before he went to work. I liked whatever he liked.
One time he told me, “pretty girls don’t get the freedom of being free because they are too tethered to being pretty.” I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me. He kept looking over my shoulder at the door in the bar. I worried it was true.
Sometimes I like to take my clothes off like the entire world is watching, even if I am all alone. The longest anyone has ever held their breath underwater on record is twenty-two minutes. I wonder what it was he thought about.