[ Maybe he does know, a little. He says it because it's what brings him the most relief too -- the realization that he is also not alone. Even if he can't reach her. Or see her. Sometimes, he thinks he sees a shadow, a movement that doesn't go with the water, but among all the other bloated shapes floating up on it, there's never any certainty.

Maybe she can see him, though. The faintest shadowy figure, a whisper of a silhouette. It never lasts long. ]

Yes. Yes, that's- that's exactly what happened.

I can't do anything. Or go anywhere. Or make anything. It all breaks or comes out wrong or vanishes immediately.

[ He thinks about going to her. Whatever that place is she described, it can't be worse than here.

He closes his eyes and tries and tries, and nothing works. ]

How long have you been here?

[ At this point, he's honestly not sure. ]