Sean takes my hand and leads me up the small staircase. “I wanted to show you the moon,” he says when we reach the top. “It seems pretty important to mer and I thought you might not have seen it this close before.”

“Close?” I say, glancing at the moon visible through the dome opening. “That thing’s still pretty high up there.”

Sean peers into a small lens and whistles. “Sure looks close to me.” He pulls back. “See for yourself.”

Arms crossed firmly over my chest, I lean down, skeptical as ever. I’m not sure what I expected exactly, but it definitely isn’t this.

“Blue below,” I whisper. “It’s beautiful.”

Sometimes we travel up to the surface to see the moon, to thank it for its pull on the Blue, for making our tides run smoothly, for giving our magics an extra boost. As a merbabe I’d always wave at the mer on the moon smiling down on us with a wink. But I’ve never seen it like this. Its brilliant blue-white light is all I can see. Small craters dot the surface like reverse barnacles, poking inward instead of out. Its surface reminds me of whale skin, marked with years of wear and tear but no less stunning, no less strong. Seeing it like this, I realize just how massive the moon truly is. Viewing it from the water makes the Blue seem like the more powerful of the two when all along they were giants equal in their power.

I don’t know what to say. This view is just as amazing, just as awe-inspiring, as anything I’ve ever seen in the Blue. And I wouldn’t have been able to see it if it wasn’t for a human.

If it wasn’t for Sean.

The familiar stroke of circles on my back pulls me out of my trance. I look up, and Sean motions down the staircase where a new group of moongazers waits. “I think we’ve got to let others have a turn.”

I nod, words swimming away from me. We head back outside, past a few waiting tourists, Sean leading the way to a short wall overlooking the headlight sea below.

He leans against it and asks, “So? What’d you think?”

I stare up at the moon, seeing it in a whole new light. It’s always seemed so far, but now I feel like I could know it as well as I know the grooves and nicks of the sea caves back home.

“Sean.” It’s all I can say, his name the only word that comes to mind. He’s the one who made this happen. I want to say thank you, but I can’t form a complete sentence. I slowly pull my eyes away from the moon to look at him. When I do, I see he has his phone pointed at me, recording my reaction.