I. Pink light cascades in ribbons from the tank to land surreptitiously across our faces. Its glow hides the creeping blush rising in my cheeks as I notice, in the glass, your rippling reflection staring at me. So I try not to smile, holding our gazes clandestine for a minute longer, just to let the jellyfish think that weβre admiring them.
II. From one eye, a turtle studies the warm-blooded couple, a girl, fingers cold and a boy, palms sweating. Their image bends and warps; their muffled laughter joins the glugging rhythm of the pseudo-ocean. Holding its breath, it settles into a front-row seat for its favorite exhibit.
III. You point out a pair of angelfish gliding blithely, two lovers floating freely. We were fish once, you tell me. Yet here we stand, I reply, with our feet stuck to the ground, only able to dream of breathing underwater - what kind of progress is that? And you just smile, silently tuck your arm around my waist, pull me closer and wordlessly answer all of my questions.