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 Bobbie nodded in sure agreement. She had been excited about the lanterns ever since Sam mentioned them and compared to the ones in the Tangled movie. Sam didn’t mind that she didn’t knew the true meaning behind them, there were still a few years ahead before she could explain to her daughter that sometimes people go missing and they never come back— if she did that now, surely the young girl would think the same would happen with her mother eventually and she didn’t need that kind of thought in her home. “Well, thank you,” she smiled, appreciating the woman’s kind words towards her and her daughter, “I’m Sam and this is Barbara, but we call her Bobbie,” her daughter narrowed her eyes at the sound of her full name. “Mommy only calls me Barbara when she’s mad at me,” the little girl volunteered the information making Sam’s nose wrinkle. “I’m almost two,” she replied holding two little fingers up to make her point across. Bobbie was eloquent for her age despite stumbling over some words and not being able to properly say others. Sam blamed school for her daughter to be such a chatter bug. “We didn’t put a lantern up there either, we lit it and held it down, just as a sign of respect, but I’m a marine biologist and conservationist, so this goes against everything I believe,” she pointed to the lanterns in the air. “Do you know the family?”

“You’re welcome..no problem. Pleasure to meet you Sam and Bobbie.” Nyna returned the smile and matched it with one of her own. “Oh my! Two years old? Really?” She said, letting her gaze flicker from the little girl to Sam again. “She seems really advanced. I mean I don’t know how the whole growth chart goes, but I’ve got a feeling you’re wise beyond your years, little one.” Nyna gave a light tug to a lock of Bobbie’s  hair. When Sam explained why they hadn’t let their lantern go she nodded in appreciative acknowledgement. “Honestly I hadn’t thought of it that way. Watching all this must be a bit cringey for you,” she replied. “There’s got to be other options that are kinder to the environment. I know I once attended a memorial where they released doves. It was beautiful though I’m not sure if there’s some special symbolism there.” She paused, taking in some air. “Forgive the overshare, I’m talking way too much.” She shook her head. “No, I’m working, but also I wanted to pay my respects. I’m a journalist,” she explained. 

He wasn’t sure if she was frustrated because she didn’t know how to help him or if she was frustrated because he was like this. He understood the latter, he was frustrated he was like this as well, he wanted to calm down, he wanted to breath normally again and not feel so terrible. So he forced his shoulder blades further together, hoping they would offer more realise. “T-thank you,” he said, reaching for the water bottle with shaking hands. He took a large sip, his throat was parched, and he only noticed that now. He took her advice, it was easy to take advice when he had no control whatsoever, he was desperate for someone to tell him what to do. He closed his eyes, he pictures his room, his bed, his iPad, and tried to inhale and exhale with more certainty. The fact that she mentioned anxiety and panic attacks did a whole lot, however. Tim wasn’t sure why, but accepting the truth usually went a long way. Someone telling him he had a panic attack often took away most of the terror. This is normal: you have a panic attack. Nothing less, nothing more. He felt a bit better already. “Y-you’re not o-overstepping, I-I app-preciate the h-help,” he said. His eyes were still closed.

“Good, good.. I’m glad,” she said, letting out the breath of air she’d been holding in. It wasn’t like giving advice to someone in distress was her strongest skillset, given her own life was such mess. She felt unqualified, mostly. None the less she gave the man a moment to breathe and settle down before she started gabbing again. “You seem a little, distressed.  Did something in particular happen to trigger you? Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help? Anyone I could call for you?,” she asked, stopping to take another breath of her own. She wasn’t sure if the break in speech pattern was because of fear or something else, either way she felt bad for the interrogation she just wasn’t sure what else to do other than give the man some space. “Again...sorry. You don’t have to answer, I just hate feeling helpless.” She sighed, taking another bottle from her purse, one that held something stronger than water. She took a few sips as she looked out at the water and closed her eyes as the vapors from the liquor burned down throat. In a moment of quiet reflection she wondered if the man was somehow tied to the missing but she kept her thoughts to herself. 

Tim wasn’t breathing. He was breathing, but it was hard, it was stained, it drove him from calm back to panic back to calm back to panic. It was a constant battle to focus his mind on getting enough air to his lungs to attain control again. But it wasn’t easy. Because despite being away from the group, he still felt the weight of everything. Crashing, pushing him down, making his body collapse onto itself. As if he was caught beneath the waves. 

His breath caught in his throat when he heard a voice, what followed was a dry sob as he tried to take enough breath to answer the question. Sad yes. Really sad. The family. Of all those people, and he was here making a scene. No, focus. He forced his shoulders back, and as a result fell down with his back in the sand, the rocks, the pebbles. Didn’t matter, all he felt was his stained breath, his lungs that started to hurt more and more. 

“I- I-” he began, barely enough to make one word let alone one sentence. He was overreacting, he didn’t know these people, he was just… just… he shouldn’t be feeling like this, there were people were felt worse. “Fine,” he said and shook his head. 

“I...ugh, okay,” Nyna replied, stepping back a bit to give the guy room to breathe, his struggle was palpable. Reaching inside her book bag she pulled out a half frozen bottled water and extended it to the younger male. “Maybe you don’t feel up to talking. I get it, it’s okay. I brought an extra water along. Take it, maybe it will help?” She said, waiting to see if he would even reply. “Sometimes when I’m having difficulty, with you know, panic attacks or anxiety in general, I just close my eyes and picture a safe place and breathe. Think of it as kind of an escape.” It was an artform she nearly had down to perfection, “Forgive me If I’m overstepping. Just trying to help.”