Hanging On Letting Go

It was the detail Rachel remembered afterwards, detail she didn't want to remember. The black wetness of the rock shelf looming out over her, the delicate tracery of water coming over the fall; the body on its back, its legs half in the pool; the eyes staring in the white face; the shirt caught tight across the stomach so she could see the rapid fluttering of Ben's breathing; the sick lurching of her own stomach.