She decided she’d row all damn day if she had to.
The first harpoon had pulled her bathtub dangerously close to the water line rising inexorably in her bathroom. The line, taut and dripping from the force pulling it as far out to sea as the tiled floor would allow, vibrated with the beast’s strength.
She had taken on some water. “No good,” she thought. She bailed as much as she could and went back to scanning the odd undulations and swells of the water rising steadily from every pore of the tile floor in her bathroom. Luckily, though, the tub wasn’t sinking. It wasn’t quite rising either.