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Thirty-three years ago
It happens on a beach.
A little girl is splashing in the shallows. Falling over, getting up again. Squealing. A woman in a sundress watches from under a hat, while a woman in a swimsuit plays with the toddler.
Suddenly a big wave comes from nowhere and pulls the child away from the shore. It tumbles her over and over and she waves her little arms and legs at the sky.
The woman in the swimsuit laughs. “You’re a mermaid.”
But the other woman is screaming. “What are you doing? She’s drowning.”
“It’s just a wave. It’s saying hello.”
The woman in the sundress rushes into the water and pulls the child back from the grasp of the sea. “Look at her, she’s crying. She’s coughing up sand.”
“That’s what happens at the beach.”
“She could have drowned.”
“The gods called her Selkie because she’s a mermaid.”
“You and your stupid fairytales. She isn’t safe with you. She isn’t safe.”