Page 44 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster

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I feel more…likemyself.

I’ve forgotten what it is to speak to another—to have my questions answered. To be asked questions in turn. To hear someone laugh over words I’ve spoken.

I hear humans laugh nearly every day. I see their smiles and joy when I am called to the surface to amuse them. Once, those sounds and faces would makemefeel joy. Iliketo make humans smile and laugh.

But that joy slipped. Vanished, with many of my words. I can’t saywhy.

Maybe I’ve grown tired. Maybe I ache too much to speak with the humans, not just amuse them. Maybe I let too much of myself slip.

But I haven’t felt joy…

Until Pippilaughs.And it’s…thesoundof her voice, theknowingthat she’s scared, and lost, but trusts me enough tolaugh.

My heart stirs. How long has it been? Since I felt this…thestirring?Theacheof seeing someone so…so…

There is a word, to capture the feeling…

Enthrilling?

No.

Enthralling.

Yes.

The tilt of her head when she smiles—a full, genuine smile. It is off, her smile.

No…

“Off” isn’t the word.

Or perhaps it is?

She smiles more on one side…

Crooked.

Her smile iscrooked.And theshape of it enthralls me.

But her eyes enthrall me most of all. Their softness. Warmth.Kindness.

I wish I had more words for the way I feel.

“Tomorrow,”we promise.

We’ll meet again…tomorrow.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the drag of a day, the waiting for atomorrow.

In truth, I allow those words to slip.

Today.

Tomorrow.

Yes-yes-yeserday…yesterday.

They are meaningless to me. Or theywere.But now I have a tomorrow to yearn for.

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