I sit in my room. Doctor Beck examines my hands. She says words. She pours a thousand words on me.

The man who makes the floor clean has fear of me. Do they all have fear of me? They lock me in a room and do not let me free.

In my dolphin family I was free. Now I have a locked door.

I do not understand why they lock me in. I am not like the orca who goes after the dolphin, who runs the dolphin down and eats the dolphin. I am not like a net to trap the dolphin and hold the dolphin down so she cannot breathe. I am happy to play. I am happy to swim in the little pool. I am happy to talk their talk, to make their music. I do not know why they lock me in.

I try to learn the language of humans. I try to think the way of humans. Each day I have more words to say my thoughts. But I do not have enough words for what I feel now.

Sandy stands at the edge of my room. She does not look at me. She looks at Doctor Beck. She looks at Doctor Beck a long time with no words.

I think of the sea and my other life. I remember my body sliding through the silk of the sea, riding between the silk body of my mother and the silk body of my aunt. I think of playing with my dolphin cousins, of the sea singing and singing.

I want to go there. I need to go there.

Please let me go there.

Doctor Beck looks away.

Sandy says, What have we done?