A kind of stroke you never have to learn, it comes installed already like the long lazy crawl you practiced in the womb before you could even breathe. Your feet go down, your head goes up, like someone standing up in water, or trying to, like someone who's forgotten everything they've ever known about how to float, how to keep on living in this world. You stick your arms up, waving about for help. You stretch your mouth wide open for a final breath or two. You turn streamlined as a fish, a stone, then something grabs you from below and, like a midwife, pulls you, gasping, backwards out of life.