She thought about her brother Alan. Jane forgave him for hiding her dolls when he was six. Though she'd started high school by then, the violation of her room bothered her more than the missing dolls. She couldn't say why she thought of him first. Any number of others over the course of her life deserved as much forgiveness for the petty sins clustering in her skull -- any thoughts to keep the rising water level out. Maybe because the two talked less each year, neither seeing a need for the other the older they got; and there would be no chance to make up the deficit.
The water line caused her to turn up her nose bumping it against cold metal. Nostrils flared clutching at the last airy inch. Her eyes burned in the water's salty sting. She couldn't say how long the tank had taken to fill, but it wouldn't be much longer till full. The expansive implication of the simple phrase "it's only a matter of time" struck her.
She wondered who would miss her. Her parents probably would, though mostly only around the holidays. Mom always needed a shoulder to cry on, and Dad counted on Jane's routine gift of latest spy novels. Despite how the relationship ended, for reasons which she saw now as epically petty and pointless, Jane hoped Fred might miss her. He wouldn't, part of her knew that, but she still hoped. Gloria from work definitely would, although Jane would not miss her. The nice Indian man at the gas station who sold her cigarettes?
Jane snorkeled a final deep breath with her nose. She didn't know how long it would last. Probably not long but it just felt right to make the effort.
Floating in the tank Jane couldn't help considering, "How hard will it be to replace me?" She never even pondered if anyone would ever know what happened to her.
Staring through the brackish water, Jane tried to make sense of the crowd gathered around the tank. She hadn't asked for the opportunity, but among the last bubbles she wondered, "Was I entertaining?"