![](https://s0.wp.com/i/blank.jpg)
He’s always busy with something, never cares where she’s been or who she’s seen. Ignores how she’s spending every spare second with old swim friends; doesn’t even notice when shimmering scales start to reappear.
Now she’s gone. And all he finds are her discarded shoes, drifting unneeded on the tide.
Deborah writers at an old desk surrounded by five hundred pet bugs.