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Though parted by the ocean deep,
My oldest friend, we meet again.
I touch your face; you rouse from sleep.
“Hey, wake up, ~” your mouth moves as the words spill out softly. A smile paints your face, gazing down at the cephalopod sleeping peacefully before you. A hand rises to gently poke her in the cheek. “Wake up.”
I̶̟̦͕͒ḿ̶̥͘á̷̠͎n̶̜̣̽ï̵̦͈-̵̱̩͇̂͘͠ She—rolls over, swinging her arm in a sluggish attempt to push you away; her tentacles curl in on themselves as if to escape the inevitable. “Mrrrmmmpff…” she ‘says’ in an annoyed tone—heh, she’s always annoyed.
With a giggle, your body leans back, easily avoiding the ruthless attack. Your arms reach up to grab the extended limb, pulling her down with it.
“Ï̸͖̖̻ͅm̴̦͇̞͈̀͆̏m̸̧̦͙̮̀a̵̻̩̮̫͆ȧ̵̮͒͝ạ̶̐͛͌͘a̵̲͌̎̇n̴̖̾͘n̸̹̤̍̎̕n̸̲͋i̵̧͔̗͌ͅȋ̷̙͙͘!̶̠̽ ~” Your voice calls her n̷a̸m̵e̶, light and teasing.
She jerks her arm away with a hiss—causing your body to fall from the bed as it loses balance. The octoling rolls over for a second time, sitting up just enough to glower down at you. The previously cowering tentacles unfurl to hang down stiffly—clearly trying to look intimidating…
Your face stretches so much that it hurts and your lungs ache as your throat constricts, futilely trying to hold the laughter bubbling within. The façade breaks when a pillow comes barreling into your abdomen, demolishing any remaining bastions against the coming onslaught. Laughter erupts through the b̷͇̂a̴͙͆ŗ̸́ȓ̸̜a̸͔̚c̷̗͆ḵ̵̚s̴̞̚-̵̻̎?̶̻͆ room, ricocheting between the metal walls and floors. You can’t see—your eyes must have closed—but you know e̵x̴a̷c̷t̴l̶y̶ the face she’s making—(̴d̶o̶ ̵y̵o̷u̵?̷)̴?̵ ̸ ̶You c̴a̶n̵-̶ c̷͇̏a̸̖̎n̴̻̈́.̴̲̒ṫ̸͚-̶̨̕ can picture vi̷vid̵ly the affronted expression that paints her features: eyebrows ra̸i̶s̵ed and pushed together, ang̸l̷e̶d̵ inw̸a̴rds, eyes wide bright with f̷a̶u̶x an̸ge̸r, mouth open—(̴j̷u̸st sli̴g̵h̶tly̴)̵—in a shallow frown that lets the p̵o̶i̷n̸ts of her bea̶k̵ s̴how, stiff tentacles be̴t̷ra̶ying her ru̷s̴e by the way they curl alm̵o̵s̵t̶ impe̸r̵c̴eptibly at the ends.
Next your eyes open—you know this—
But you keep your eyes stubbornly closed—(or maybe you close them for the first time) —, holding on to the moment just a bit more…
“I̸̤̗͆m̸̳̮̚̚ã̴̘̺n̸̲̔͒͜i̴̦͛͋, it’s 0̸͉͇̥̿̕5̷̗͎͍̀́͊̋͠:̸͎̀̊̍̚2̷͔̲̭̐͒̐͝6̷̧̠͖͓̊ we have—” …what was it? an obligation? –
then, she says something—
“̸͖̓ ̵̬̈͐ ̸̨̻̪͒-̵̗͓̦͋Ḫ̷͉̯͙̖̯̭̗̯̜̟̮͚̘̎͐́̒̋̄͑͂̀̆ͅȁ̷̧̫̗͍̣̯̳͈̮͎̜̗͍̻̖̓̅̌̔̌̽̈́̂̂̽͒̕̕č̴̡̰̪̦̼̀͒̃̎͜h̴̢̰̞̝͈̻͈̠͔̼̀̓̔̔ͅi̸̱͂̉̅͑-̷̰͉͉̎ ̶̪̬̇͜ ̸̩̒”̷̖̆
you don’t quite know what—your n̶̲̤͓͔̈̒̈a̶̩̝̓̐̀͛m̵̧͚̗̕é̸̜̽ is was in there somewhere (probably)
“Come on Ni! —” her name? no. a nickname? “If you don’t get up soon people will start to think you’re a squid—”
̴̤̑ ̷͕́ ̵̱́ ̶̛̭ ̸̫̏ ̴͔̏ ̶͈̊ ̴̲̿ ̴̤̑ ̷͕́ ̵̱́ ̶̛̭ ̸̫̏ ̴͔̏ ̶͈̊ ̴̲̿ ̴̤̑ ̷͕́ ̵̱́ ̶̛̭ ̸̫̏ ̴͔̏ ̶͈̊ ̴̲̿
“—o?”
?
what was that?
who—?
you didn’t say that.
not then or now…
…
o… squid—
‘squiddo’
̴̤̑ ̷͕́ ̵̱́ ̶̛̭ ̸̫̏ ̴͔̏ ̶͈̊ ̴̲̿
oh.
̴̤̑ ̷͕́ ̵̱́ ̶̛̭ ̸̫̏ ̴͔̏ ̶͈̊ ̴̲̿
You squeeze your eyes shut harder. You know it won’t work but still, you cling to this as a paralarva would to its mother—it’s not unlike Ȉ̶̗m̴̡̽ă̶̗n̸̫͆î̴̤’̶̟̓s̶̘̈́-̸͊͜ Ni’s attempt at hiding from the coming day, fighting against what she knew was inevitable—the passage of time—you’re in a losing battle.
The deep musty air of the subway rushes through your lungs as you take a breath, one of many sensations you realize clash drastically with the world you were lost in, even if you can’t place w̶h̴y̵.
The feeling of dust scratching at your throat pulls you from your thoughts, but it’s too late to take the breath back as you’re reminded of another adjective you could use to describe the metro air—
Your eyes fly open as a cough strikes your body. A scowl crosses your face; you’d never let your space get this dusty. Not in a million years.
Looking up, you meet the captain’s eyes, who glances at you worriedly as he slaps your back while you come down from the sudden coughing fit.
“Everything alright there, Agent?” he asks, “You kinda zoned out on us for a minute.”
“Dust,” you wheeze, hoping you convey the depth of your frustration.
The old squid’s mouth is pressed firmly into a line as he watches you.