When I was young, I imagined myself a fish.

I swam in ponds and lakes and pools. Held my breath as I glided under the surface from one side to the other. Willed the air out of my lungs and sank to the bottom, criss cross applesauce for a tea party on the ocean floor. Exhaled deeply before diving in, no air bubbles to betray my location as I silently called for my mother, waited for someone on shore to notice how long I had been under, remark that it had been too long, call my name, dive in and bring me to the surface.

Lungs burning, head pounding, heart racing, I emerged gasping, to the sounds of Marco and Polo, splashing and laughter, the ice cream truck before anyone noticed me missing; proven just as invisible as I felt.

I held my breath today.

To see how long I could.

1:11.02.

Well below the 8 minutes 46 seconds George Floyd struggled for air, drowned on dry land, in full view of the world, calling out for his mother, lungs burning, head pounding, heart racing, invisible, gasping and begging to be brought to the surface, begging to be saved.