The Way He Looked at Me
But arguing means standing here longer, staring at Vincent barely dressed and crouched low and that feels like a worse decision.
So I drop beside him.
Now we’re both hiding.
From a fish.
I open my mouth to say something, but he taps my arm sharply.
“Watch.”
He lifts his head into view.
I follow
And my breath catches.
The fish moves.
No hesitation. No delay. It swims straight toward Vincent like it’s been waiting for him.
Vincent shifts to the left.
The fish follows.
He moves again.
Same result.
Like a string is tied between them.
The water explodes with color as its fins spread deep reds melting into pink and violet, rippling like fabric underwater. It hovers close, releasing tiny bubbles, a