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Cal stared up at the dome above him, countless fish leisurely casting shadows across his face. The entire world felt blue in that moment. It felt almost perfect, like he had every soul born fooled in unattainable clarity. He was a normal teenager; smiley and kind, who wouldn't hurt a fly. And his girlfriend was more perfect than anything he could have imagined. Cassie held his hand. So gingerly, so warm, their fingers laced in a manner that seemed only destined. Their palms existed for a singular reason: to cup the others. If the world was perfect, he lived under this dome with her. With Andre, maybe Rachel. If the world was perfect, he never felt the urge to put people in their place.
"Cotton Candy!" Announced Cassie, her head turned down the hall towards the only light that wasn't some variety of blue.
Cal followed her gaze, and there it was. Puffs on the ends of cones, white, pink, green, and of course, blue. "Should we get some?" he asked.
Cassie responded by tugging him along behind her, "All the colors."
"Maybe we can share one," he replied, watching the bounce of her curls as she led him forward. She always had some pep in her step. It was something he loved about her, her joyfulness — the whimsy of her, but she wasn't a concept, she had her own problems. He hoped they wouldn't get any worse when he was gone. And he would be gone soon.
"Purple," she mumbled, releasing his hand to pick up one of the plastic-wrapped cones from the very back of the stand.
"Purple?"
"Wow... it's $5.99." Chuckled Cassie, twirling it in her hands. Gift shops always up charged— no matter what they were selling. Cal thought about offering to pay, but she spoke again, interrupting his thoughts, "It's worth it, don't you think?" Cal nodded in response and Cassie hummed her way over to the counter, purchasing it and two 50¢ stickers—cookie cutter shark, they read on the back—she handed one to Cal.
"For me?" he asked as he took it, undoubtedly stating the obvious.
"Duh," Cassie mocked before flashing a bright smile, "I'm gonna put mine on my camera."
Cal inspected the sticker, running his thumb over the smooth, cold vinyl. Her camera, huh? He thought. He turned the sticker over and put it in his shirt pocket. "I'll find somewhere for mine," he assured, mostly himself, because he didn't really have a place to put stickers these days. He had burned a lot, a lot of his stuff. "Why is it called that?" He asked.
"What?" Cassie responded, brushing a loose strand of his hair back into place.
"Cookie..." Cal trailed off, before flipping over the sticker she still has clutched in her palm to read the label, "Cookie cutter shark?"
"I'm not sure," Cassie replied, holding the sticker up as if it would help, "It's so cute though. I'm sure it's a harmless little thing." After a beat she added, "They probably don't have any here."
"Probably not." Cal laughed in reply.