The boat left the dock at seven thirty and by seven forty-five they were in deep water. The ocean shelf dropped off like a poem; it was two miles to the bottom. Schools of fish were stacked like cars in a Japanese car park. She went in first and he followed. I am the only shark in the ocean. Then the sudden impact of bone-flesh against his leg. His wife stopped dead, her shoulders came out of the water. Dolphins, he thought, diving deeper. She was panting with laughter when the vertigo spooked him and he drowned without a parting wave.
— Julian Hanna