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The ache crawls deeper, heavy as saltwater in my chest.
This—this job—was supposed to be everything. Years of study, long nights, student loans that still hang around my neck like an anchor.
It was supposed to be purpose. My life’s work.
But like so many other things—like the last boyfriend who swore forever and barely lasted a year—it’s been a disappointment.
I don’t have family waiting for me when I clock out.
No parents anymore.
No siblings.
Just a handful of cousins scattered upstate who send the occasional obligatory Christmas card.
My apartment is silent except for the hum of the fridge and the neighbors arguing through thin walls.
Some days it feels like I’ve been misplaced, dropped in the wrong life entirely.
What’s keeping me here?
Habit? Fear?
The thought that this—scrubbing tanks and feeding fish to applause that isn’t even for me—is all I’ll ever deserve?
I tighten my grip on the net, staring at the place where Aggie disappeared beneath the surface.
If only something—someone—would take me away.
Anywhere but here.
I stare at the water for too long.
Minutes blur—time does that here, folding into itself between feedings and flashbulbs—until the pool shivers beneath my hands.
At first, I blame the filter, the old system that always gives us grief. Another maintenance ticket to log, another promise that it will be fixed next quarter.
But something inside me tightens and I jerk back, because this isn’t the ordinary shudder of a pump.
Currents spiral through the pool with intent, not random wobble—an undercurrent that feels planned, like a hand drawing a line in the water.
“What the?—”
The rest of the sentence dies in my throat.
The air in the exhibit goes thick, like the room holds its breath for me.
Charged. Heavy.
The fluorescent lights buzz in a tone I’ve never heard before.
And then I seehim.
Chapter 2
Kael
From Nightfallto the Jersey Shore
