“I’ll be there,” Nate says. “For the meet.”

Underwater, the sound design shifts: bubbles like static, then silence, then a low, distorted heartbeat. The camera follows Nate’s hand as it slices through the water. He swims one lap. Then two. Then he stops at the far end, grips the edge, and doesn’t get out. He just hangs there, chest heaving, staring down at the black drain at the bottom.

End of piece.