lesson three

A stuck tap can flood an entire room in a matter of minutes. One moment you are dry and content and lovely. The next your clothes are transparent and your flesh is melting off your bones.

She is testing sense when she stands at the sink and she knows it, but thirst has convinced her otherwise. She slowly twists the tap clockwise until a few small drips escape. Then she hastily jams the tap back counter-clockwise. She feels her fingertips stretch around the cold metal.

Without adjusting her grip she turns the tap on again. Faster this time. Enough water leaves to fill a small glass - one of those champagne glasses they use at weddings, an ugly 100ml mark near the rim. They monitor your intake, your wallet, your sanity; seemingly contradicting the purpose of drinking in the first place.

With her left hand she rushes to plug the sink before the water can run down the drain. But her right hand still grips the tap. Her knuckles are a little bit yellow - the same colour as the skin which sits underneath the eyes of sick people. Her hand rests on the plug momentarily. Deciding the water is too cold, she pulls out the plug.

The gurgling sound which ricochets through the kitchen is sickening. It reminds her of bodies twisting. Her spine in the morning. The person in the middle of a tug-o-war. Wringing her blanket over and over in her hands. Keep your hand on the tap, she tells herself, and tightens her grip.

She puts the plug back into the sink, twists the tap clockwise and lets go. Her body shifts back a few steps. The knuckles on her right hand flush red as she fans out her fingers, welcoming blood back into the joints. She watches the sink begin to fill.

When the water is halfway up the sides of the sink she lifts her foot over the bench. She clambers awkwardly into the sink and tucks her knees up so she can sit: A small, mountainous island in twenty four centimetres of water. The hair on her body sticks out a little. She is not comfortable. She is not dry or content or lovely, either.

Because she is occupying so much space in the sink it doesn't take long for it to fill. She reaches for the dirty plates behind her and sits them in the sink with her. She balances eight dirty plates, all different sizes, upright between her toes. By shuffling her ankles around she can make little waves with the plates. The water is spilling out over the sides and onto the dirty wooden floor. She dismisses the thought that the wood might rot. She'll deal with that tomorrow.

The water is really rushing over the bench now. There is a layer of liquid on the floor. The water is getting hotter too, as the cylinder heats up. Her flesh is pink-ish and her hair has retreated back into her skin. She doesn't want to be sitting in the water anymore. She is panicking. She thrashes the plates from side to side to shift all the water out. But there is so much of it. The floor has disappeared and instead there is just water. It comes up from the floor and seeps back into the sink. She has to keep making waves and breathing in between each one. The water is near the roof now. There is less and less room for air. The elements are fighting each other above her head.

She recalls a window near the sink - to her left. Her arm searches out, all the while her toes still making plate-waves. Her fingernails find glass, a latch, the outside. The water begins to pour out but there is so much that she is swept out with it. Out through the window, suddenly, with eight plates and eight thousand litres of water. Her spine findng a new twist on the ground.

The concrete outside is much sharper than the smooth metal sink. The plates are in pieces all around her. She lies there for a while because she can feel the sun on her. But her clothes are so drenched that even this feels cold. She is afraid to roll over and stand up in case plates shards find themselves at home in her skin. So she just lies. People walking past can see something is wrong, but have no idea what to make of the scene. They don't want to embarrass themselves. Stopping to help - unsuccessfully - will only expose their ignorance.