The pool is in the middle of a room. One by one the soldiers wade in, down, down, and down until they are completely submerged, and down further in single file, as though sleepwalking.
Waves lap against the dark edges of the water, and the flower girls stand by, waving the boys into the deep recesses. The water is as black as sleep, like black lightning. And who can say how deep it goes?
And when the soldiers are gone, flower petals caress the black emerald water, and the girls weep because they do not want them to be gone. Their tears freeze; the air turns to lead, and the whole world is still.