Open Water

by Caleb Azumah Nelson

‘There’s nothing.’ ‘It doesn’t sound like nothing.’ ‘There’s nothing.’ ‘You’re not being fair. I’m really here just trying to check you’re OK because I care and all I’m getting is nothing, nothing, nothing.’ ‘I don’t know what to say to you.’ ‘It feels like you’re pushing me away. Like there’s something wrong and you just won’t tell me. It’s felt like this for a while.’ ‘There’s nothing.’ ‘You’re not being honest with me. I can’t do this if you won’t be honest with me.’ ‘There’s nothing. Can’t you just drop it?’ ‘Fine. Whatever.’ On the line, static; the dam has burst, and anything else said will be drowned by the sound of rushing water. And like that, a joint, fractured, broken. The line goes dead and the ocean has stilled.