I awoke, parched, my throat tightly wound like a knot of string. I reached into my mouth and grabbed the string, pulled it out along with the sparrow tied to the other end. It flew into the cup of my hand.

In the sparrow’s beak there was a length of thread that I tugged and drew forth, freeing the large expanse of pale blue that had once been the morning sky. The sparrow left my hand and disappeared among the distant clouds.

It started to rain, sudden downpour. The leaves on the trees sagged with the weight of the water. Soon the puddles on the ground were up to my ankles, then up to my waist, then at my neck, until I was submerged in a muddy ocean.

The sun was visible after the rainfall, and from beneath the surface of the waves it was a strange, mottled ellipse. It trembled in the sky before it blinked out. I could feel my breath form into pockets of air, but I could no longer see them.

I cannot swim. The water was thickening around me and I started to scream. I swallowed large mouthfuls of water until I realized I had engulfed the entire ocean. I looked up and the sky was gone, and so were the clouds. I swallowed them all. I swallowed the sparrow, too. I devoured everything until there was nothing left but a piece of string.