A (very) Short Story

Wet

As I stood on the third bottom step watching water seep and rise into my living room, you would think that I would be angry or shocked or upset but I wasn’t.

You see, this morning, I had thought it was exciting.

I was enchanted to see the gentle current lift the skirts of the sofa and lap up the walls. It reminded me of my favourite game as a little girl. My sister and I would imagine that our house was half underwater and our living room was one big swimming pool. We would float around on cushions to get from one chair to the other and have to dive under the surface to watch telly. I had invested so much imagination into this mermaid fantasy that I would wish and wish it was true.

And now, over twenty-five years later, it is.

The water has risen a lot since this morning. As I tentatively dip my toe in, now foot, now leg, now waist; reality begins to dawn. I realise what I hadn’t expected all those years ago.

I hadn’t expected the water to actually be, you know, wet.