36

"I know what you mean," says Arraia. "There's this fish I used to like to eat, but I haven't seen one in a hundred years or so. I think it might not even exist anymore. I was trying to remember what it tasted like, and I couldn't. My favorite food, and the memory of that is just gone."

"Yeah," says Estre. "The terrifying thing about those kinds of memories is that most of the time, you don't even know that you're missing them. They just fade away into obscurity."

Estre shakes his head and turns to Arraia. "Well, this is getting a little dark for my liking," he says, gesturing to his wounds. "Maybe it's not what we need right now. We should go have a good night's sleep. Be ready for the Celebration of Eternally Annoying Overlords tomorrow."

Arraia rolls her eyes. "Whale spectacle day. Ugh, I almost forgot." It's pretty rare to find anyone who actually likes the ceremony. Any merfolk, anyway. It's mostly for the benefit of the whales.

Estre looks up at Cinza in the air ballasts one last time. "It's horrible to see her like this," he says, "but at least I know she's safe for now. We'll check in on her again tomorrow. Don't worry." He waves good-bye with one more glance back and you raise your own hand in a good-bye as you watch them leave. You turn to leave yourself; it's too disturbing to see Cinza trapped in the glass air ballast like some animal.

As you turn to leave yourself, a weariness overcomes you. Sometimes, you worry that these things, these questions, have no solution, that you're just drifting blind in a wide, open ocean. What a terrifying thought.

You quickly drop off your supplies before heading home.

Sleep Until Tomorrow