[stylist] a very short story

[Vejas]

Hi.
First of all, I just wanted to say thank you for all of my 
comments about my lost story.  I went back into the archives and 
found the attachment.
I have a very short story which I wanted to share.  It's more 
intense than my usual writing.  I really tried to do the "show 
don't tell", but I wonder if I did too much of it? Any comments 
are welcome.  This story is short enough that I can post it at 
the bottom of the e-mail.
Vejas
The Flood

Isabella got home from school and raced to her computer.  She was 
addicted to Twitter, and being only 12, her parents would not 
give her a phone.  She saw that her friend Maria had posted a 
funny video (or so she claimed.) Having had a bad day, Isabella 
eagerly opened up Maria's post.  Maria had written: "LOL I 
laughed so hard that I almost died I mean like come on seriously 
doesn't that guy look so stupid and ridiculous?" Isabella 
prepared for a good laugh and thought about the last video that 
Maria had sent her, which was a group of men and women, dressed 
and otherwise, showing off by purposely dancing in a whole 
kitchenful of banana peels to energetic music.  Every time they 
had been ready to slip, she had laughed harder.  But she was a 
link away from something completely different.
Click...  and then she watched the video load and play.  She was 
shocked.  The video clip took place in Alabama in the center of 
an intense flood.  Houses were falling.  One man came out of his 
house looking helpless, a green shirt and a pair of blue jeans in 
his hand plus a couple clothes on him.  He swam slowly, not 
knowing exactly which direction to go, it seemed.  His spare 
shirt and jeans were soaking wet, but it didn't seem to matter to 
hm; all he wanted was to keep his clothes.  After a while it 
seemed like the man was just going to give up, and he began to 
sink more than swim, though he was still lightly treading water.  
A couple of seconds later he was still sinking, and his shirt was 
pulled out of his hands by the strong water.  Then, more sinking.  
There was a small amount of time where it looked like the man was 
going to live again.  Isabella saw him treading water violently, 
splashing around to get up.  Good for him, she thought.  The man 
was finally able to get his mouth out of the water, and he 
smiled.  Isabella wondered why someone who had just lost their 
house and all but a few articles of clothing, and who had looked 
so depressed before, why someone, in the midst of screaming, 
yelling and carrying on, would smile.  And then she figured it 
out.  She looked closer into the man's smile; he looked calm and 
peaceful.  He was going to give up.  She had known he would from 
the very beginning when he had not known which direction to go 
but hadn't wanted to admit it to herself.  And sure enough, he 
began to sink again, slowly, as the flood continued to get worse.  
This time he made absolutely no effort to keep swimming.  And 
then he was gone and the video stopped abruptly.  Isabella began 
to cry.  She vowed she would never again be friends with such a 
girl who thought that that man's pain was her pleasure.  That 
poor man!