The girl who turned into a fish has always loved water, seldom felt free. She would’ve lasted longer in a world with fewer responsibilities, more room to change. Sometimes, when she dreams of throwing it all away, she’ll walk along the river and stare over the edge of the railing into the curious world below. She’s drawn to its surface, which slinks riotously, in and out, like hills and hills of electric eels. There, buoys dance like sunken graves. In the water, a bag of Cheetos becomes a billowing goldfish. From the shore, she watches a wave slowly curl into a thunderclap. The girl has a lot on her mind: a list of unread emails entreating her to complete task after task, requests from her boss who still asks her to fax his documents for him. She is the eldest daughter and the keeper of dozens of terrible secrets… her phone is just a waiting room filled with people seeking comfort. And she listens, of course, as she always does, because if she didn’t, the world would fall apart. At least sometimes, that’s how it feels. Did I mention, the girl is tired as hell… of saying yes, of holding her tongue, of smiling sweetly. Under the surface, a pot of water softly boils on a stovetop. Last week, we took a walk on the west side highway when she pointed out to me two ships on the horizon. “From the wrong angle, doesn’t it seem like they’ll collide nose first, instead of quietly passing?” I nodded and didn’t think much more of it. Soon after, she started to wear long sea green dresses. She began each morning sipping seaweed broth and gargling with saltwater. Then one day, I read in the paper she’d gone missing. And I was worried, but not for too long: the next time I wandered along the water, a roiling sensation overtook my thoughts, like a geyser or the breathing of a whale. At the verge of the river, a pile of her glittering turquoise clothes spun in a frenzied heap – suddenly I heard an uncontrollable splash … I even thought I heard her musical laugh before I saw her swim far away, vanishing with the ocean suds into the throat of the horizon.