Everything shifted.

Iveta was looking up at something like an awning drawing over her. She was in a round room where the walls curved down to an equally curved floor. The awning rang out as it clamped down flat on top.

She was in the cup.

Everything shifted again. She seemed outside looking in as if the world was a picture. In the river, her body floated still. The vodnik floated beside it opening the lid of a blue cup decorated with swans painted on it. A bubble emerged which vodnik pushed into the open mouth of Iveta's body. The body kicked and coughed. It was her but not her. She could feel someone else inside her body. Someone very confused.

A rower pulled her body out. They tried to sit it – him, she supposed it was her brother – in a chair, but he would not bend her body's middle. They laid him on the grass. Several women offered cups of hot chocolate and fried cakes. Iveta's brother drank each cup. He took the cakes in his fists and squeezed the pastries into pulp.

"Dr. Krajnik," they cried out, "come help this little lady."

Iveta had seen this doctor among the passengers, skinny, bent, nose like a stork. He looked in her body's eyes, felt the pulse. "Fear of drowning has caused madness." He patted her father's arm, "Take her home. Put her to bed. Salt water enemas every morning. These work wonders with children."

From "Vodnik Laughter"