Sean smiles and takes a bite of their burrito. I keep my eyes down so I don’t have to witness them chomping on the mahi-mahi inside. How would a human feel if they had to watch their favorite pet get fried up and smothered in guacamole? Trying to get my mind off Sean’s mouthful of death, I ask, “So what do you want to do about Dominic?”

“Do about it? What is there to do about it?”

“How do you want to move on? I’m assuming you need some kind of revenge. I’m here to help, remember?”

Most mer stories about their Journey have sounded sweeter, like helping a lost kid find their parents, or pairing a human with an abandoned dog. Or more adventurous, like pulling some man out of a burning building. But the Blue brought Sean into my life, and getting revenge on an ex-boyfriend sounds a lot more fun than wandering around the streets hoping I find a building on fire. Not that I’d hope that, but if I don’t help a person by the time this moon cycle is up, the mer magic that brought me here will wear off and my selfish fin-less ass will be stuck up here forever. That absolutely cannot happen. So revenge it is.

“No, I don’t want revenge,” Sean says, then gets that distant look in their eyes like they had on the beach.

“Then what do you want?”

Sean slowly chews their burrito while they think, so I do the same. Bless the Blue, this thing is amazing. The mix of peppers and onions and beans is savory and spicy and unlike anything I’ve had in the water before. And it’s hot. Like, temperature-wise. We always eat cold, mushy seaweed. Unless it’s out of season; then it’s cold, tough seaweed.

“Good, right?” Sean says.

I swallow and point an accusing finger. It’s weird to use my hands so much. I usually emote with my fin, but apparently pointing with your feet is not the way they go about things here. “You’re avoiding my question.”

“It’s because I don’t know what I want. Well, I do, but it sounds pathetic. I want Dominic back, I want him to miss me, I want things to go back to the way they were.”

“I can understand that.” I want to be back in Pacifica, helping nurse baby seal pups or harvesting seaweed with my friends. Thinking about them makes it feel like an octopus has wrapped a tentacle around my heart and squeezes hard. I wonder if they feel the same way, off on their own Journeys scattered throughout the world. We’ve been together every single minute since we were born on a Blue Moon sixteen years ago. Being without them, without the Elders, without the songs of whales in the background, is already too much. And it’s only been fifty-eight minutes.