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I wish at moments like this that Benigno would stay away from me. Though the footfalls we heard tonight did not belong to the Shark, I dwell in terror of the day they do. What wrath would he visit upon Benigno for standing guard over my sanity in this place of nightmares?

Selfishly, I also never want Benigno to go. I have not kissed nor held any mer, maid, man, or otherwise, in an age, but my yearning is not founded on loneliness. He tastes of sky , this tender man who sings of the sea and named me river before he had ever heard of the Currents. And when I hold him, every anxious thought subsides with the pleasurable novelty of his human heart fluttering against mine like a gentle tern.

Though I may deceive myself in dreaming we might see each other again after I leave this place, I am teaching him to swim. He falls into my arms with the crustaceous agility I expect from one whose contact with the sea has never surpassed gazing at it from a pier. His body was a configuration of sharp corners, so unyielding had the fear of drowning made his limbs. Foolish hopes are still hope. The progress he made tonight gives me faith where there is little to be found.

The tremors have returned. They reappear each time my captivity presents some new threat to my peace. Any healing this water may bestow has run out, and without Benigno here, I can find no distraction sufficient to quell the burning in my fins.

He left me to search for villains in the dark, though my ears tell me they have gone. Otherwise, with eyes as evolved as his, I feel certain he would find them, Mother.

Benigno sees in water.