open water, prologue

A while back, I met a woman named Sharon at a bar. I have to say, I have no memory of what she looks like. I can barely remember anything about her, but I have her number in my contacts list, and she sms’s me from time to time. From these text messages, I have learned that she is an avid diver.

As a side note, it’s interesting that I’ve maintained a steady – if very infrequent – sms correspondence with Sharon. I chatted with her just once in a bar. That’s all. And although I haven’t seen her since that first night – months ago – she said she would have agreed to go away with our group for a weekend dive trip, if she did not already have plans to go to Amsterdam. It’s possible she has a better memory of me than I do of her, but the likelier story is that we just mutually trust that since we exchanged numbers a long time ago, we must have found each other interesting or at least harmless enough.

Anyway, I bring up Sharon because she recommended a dive instructor in one of her text messages months ago. I couldn’t remember who it was though, and when I tried to contact her to get the name, she was already on her way to Amsterdam.

So we ended up with the man we call crazy Raymond, whom I met through a dive shop in Lucky Plaza.

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