The death mask of an unnamed, drowned woman, referred to as “L’Inconnue de la Seine” (The Unknown Woman of the Seine), serves as the model for this popular CPR training manikin. The man I think I love can’t seem to tear his lips from yours. I shouldn’t be envious, I know, he’s trying to pump your latex full of breath, testing his palm against the plastic of your chest, listening for the click that would jump your waterlogged heart back to its patter. But I can’t help it. I want to be where you are. I’ll be honest, his lips have never brushed mine, his fingers never worked the curve of my ribs like he has yours, and— I can’t help but imagine myself splayed, eyes locked behind still lids, in this campus classroom, the buzz of fluorescents replacing my heart’s thrum. Anne, I’m worried the magic of his hands might just dredge your soul from the Seine. I know, I know— everyone who kisses you tries to bring you back. But have your lips ever touched the marble halls of a mouth like that?