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Description
The flood began today. I was walking somewhere and I saw the first drop. I always see the first drop. And today was no different. I am always the first to know. I walked to my boat and sat in it, I looked down, out then down, I saw my dog. He looked generally calm considering we would all soon be underwater, not knowing where to swim. Everything would be blue and dark, and every direction would look the same.

This made me remember how I could not see underwater without goggles. I remember in primary school, during the learn to swim program, the swimming lady told us that we needed to learn to swim without goggles in case we were walking past a river and we accidentally fell in. There is no river, and I am not accidentally falling in, so I think it's okay. So I walked to where I knew where my goggles were, put them on, and walked back to my boat. The goggles were far too tight, but I thought it would be okay, because I would be able to see underwater easier.

My dog is still sitting there, out then down, looking calm. I try to tell him telepathically that, in the end, I will end up dead too. But then I remember that animals aren't always aware that they are going to die. So I decided to take back that telepathic message, I don't think it's even working, because I'm not getting much feedback.

So I decided to just talk, like how normal people generally do. I tell him that, when the boat is full and he can't get in, and when the floods come rushing in, it's okay if he doesn't want to swim. A yellow bird flies over his head, his concentration is gone. I give him a withering look and continue. I tell him that by then, there will be nothing he can do.

The next door neighbour is looking over the fence now, obviously a tad alarmed as to what she is over hearing. She feels a drop of rain and she wipes it off her face as she walks away. I hear taps being turned off quickly. The neighbour's lover is watering his herb garden.

I sit back down in my boat, look down, out then down. My dog is still there. I'm still here. We are all still here. I wasn't the first and she wasn't what she thought was the first. There was no first and there was no flood. I look at my dog, still out then down, he's not there. Was he ever there?

I take off my goggles and suddenly oxygen fills my eyes. It's almost overwhelming. I step out of my boat and trip as I do so. I let out a soft scream, it was out of line and out of time. I look down, just down. I can see my dog out of the top of my eyes. We both look at eachother. A drop of rain hits the ground between us. He looks up.

I can see the flood in his eyes.

He gets in the boat. We are in the boat together. I put my goggles back on and look at my dog. He is looking at the yellow bird again. He is so unaware.

I whisper in his ear, it's okay if you don't want to swim.

He was the first to know.

Description
The flood began today. I was walking somewhere and I saw the first drop. I always see the first drop. And today was no different. I am always the first to know. I walked to my boat and sat in it, I looked down, out then down, I saw my dog. He looked generally calm considering we would all soon be underwater, not knowing where to swim. Everything would be blue and dark, and every direction would look the same.

This made me remember how I could not see underwater without goggles. I remember in primary school, during the learn to swim program, the swimming lady told us that we needed to learn to swim without goggles in case we were walking past a river and we accidentally fell in. There is no river, and I am not accidentally falling in, so I think it's okay. So I walked to where I knew where my goggles were, put them on, and walked back to my boat. The goggles were far too tight, but I thought it would be okay, because I would be able to see underwater easier.

My dog is still sitting there, out then down, looking calm. I try to tell him telepathically that, in the end, I will end up dead too. But then I remember that animals aren't always aware that they are going to die. So I decided to take back that telepathic message, I don't think it's even working, because I'm not getting much feedback.

So I decided to just talk, like how normal people generally do. I tell him that, when the boat is full and he can't get in, and when the floods come rushing in, it's okay if he doesn't want to swim. A yellow bird flies over his head, his concentration is gone. I give him a withering look and continue. I tell him that by then, there will be nothing he can do.

The next door neighbour is looking over the fence now, obviously a tad alarmed as to what she is over hearing. She feels a drop of rain and she wipes it off her face as she walks away. I hear taps being turned off quickly. The neighbour's lover is watering his herb garden.

I sit back down in my boat, look down, out then down. My dog is still there. I'm still here. We are all still here. I wasn't the first and she wasn't what she thought was the first. There was no first and there was no flood. I look at my dog, still out then down, he's not there. Was he ever there?

I take off my goggles and suddenly oxygen fills my eyes. It's almost overwhelming. I step out of my boat and trip as I do so. I let out a soft scream, it was out of line and out of time. I look down, just down. I can see my dog out of the top of my eyes. We both look at eachother. A drop of rain hits the ground between us. He looks up.

I can see the flood in his eyes.

He gets in the boat. We are in the boat together. I put my goggles back on and look at my dog. He is looking at the yellow bird again. He is so unaware.

I whisper in his ear, it's okay if you don't want to swim.

He was the first to know.