Gracewyn sifted through the bin of paints, each tube meticulously labeled with the correct hue. They had just found the perfect green for their newest painting: "Hooker’s green." The color reminded them of fresh-cut Bermuda grass during a dry summer month.

They continued to search through the endless paint tubes.

PHTHALO BLUE CRIMSON BURNT UMBER

Everything except for "Hooker’s green." Gracewyn looked at their painting in disappointment. They could color-match the hue, but they'd know it wasn't perfect.

Just as they had given up, something caught their eye on the floor. It was the missing tube lying underneath the bottom of their easel.

Gracewyn reached down and picked it up. “Hooker’s green.”

With a sigh of relief, Gracewyn continued with their painting.

Sillia stepped down from the front of the boat and into the shallows. Her boots sank into the mud, making a squishing sound with each step. The waterway reeked of the sweet smell of sulfur. But Sillia had woken up early that morning just so she could bask in the scent and watch the sun rise.

With each step, she looked around at the surrounding water. The tide was still high enough that you couldn’t see the oyster beds hiding below the surface. Sillia waded closer to the shoreline, making sure not to step on them. She watched as tiny shrimp floated past her legs, occasionally getting confused and ramming their heads into the exposed parts of her thighs.

By the time she reached the shoreline, low tide was in full effect. The sun glowed over the horizon as it peeped from behind the ocean. Sillia had made it just in time.

The sun's rays began to shine on the oyster beds. Their mouths bubbled in the water as they slowly shut one by one. Hundreds of sand fiddlers scurried out from underneath the shells. Their claws clicked as they snapped together, trying to grab any leftovers the oysters left behind. She watched as the sea snails slithered from underneath the muddy surface, leaving behind trails that looked like someone wrote a random combination of cursive letters.

Sillia watched as the sun turned into a bright orb in the distance. It was time to leave. But instead of saying goodbye, she whispered to herself, “I can't wait to see how much you've grown next time.”

I looked over the top of the cash register and watched the woman as she walked through the front door. She was holding a plastic Ziploc bag that appeared to contain a wad of paper towels inside.

The woman shut the door and stopped in the middle of the shop. The bell jingled as it slammed behind her. She stood there for a moment and looked around. Her eyes glimmered with joy as she looked at the ceiling down to the floor. The walls were filled with everything from taxidermy stripper mice to cow fetuses preserved in pickle jars. The oddity shop was fairly new but word of its opening had spread fast.

The woman walked towards the desk where I was sitting. “Do you preserve animals on site,” she asked.

Confused, I looked at her and replied. “No, everything is obtained through auctions and donations. Is there something else I could help you with?"

She placed the bag on the table beside the cash register. "I'd like to preserve this as soon as possible. I’ll donate it and then buy it back.”

She slid the bag closer to me. "What is it?" I asked, feeling annoyed with the situation. The smell of rotting flesh filled the air as I opened the bag and unwrapped the paper towel. The corpse of one of those goldfish with giant bulging eyes looked back at me. Its eyes were lifeless, with a milky film laying on top. Its body looked like an orange pine cone that had been stepped on.

"That's my goldfish!"

I scooted the bag back towards her. Her eyes no longer gleaming with joy. She could tell by my expression that I was not entertained by her actions.

She picked up the bag and slowly made her way towards the door. Without hesitation, she threw the bag in the trash can in the corner. I watched as she made her way through the front door, not once looking back or saying a word.

The roses were in a state of rigor mortis, the petals lifeless yet still plump with color. They crouched down and picked up one of the corpses. The petals clung tight to the flower’s pistil as they laid it flat in their hand.

The thorns were so dull that the roses could be held with the gentlest of fingers. The leaves were riddled with holes from where Japanese beetles had been feasting for days. The stem was mangled with cankers caused by a fungal infection.

They reached into their gardening apron and pulled out a small book. It was bound in leather and had the words “Pressed Flowers” branded on the cover. They opened the book, laid the corpse in between two pages, and firmly shut it.

They continued to prune the bushes, throwing the remaining roses into a compost pile. This would feed an ecosystem until the summer months came.

The book caught my eye as I was sifting through the vinyl record bin. I had been standing there for a while slowly looking at the titles, huffing the musky smell that the vinyls were emitting as I moved each one to the side. It was a picture book about ocean life. I could tell from afar because of the bold letters that said “Fish and Shellfish.” It was one of those tall, hardback “encyclopedias” that most everyone had in their elementary school library. It towered over top of the other books around it. I focused my eyes on the book to the point where everything near it was a blur.

The fish on the cover started to gradually move in an up and down motion. Almost as if they were swimming. I took one last sniff and nonchalantly walked over to the book. The creatures continued to calmy swim across the cover. I reached over and gently put my fingers on the book’s spine. The hard backing was rough from being heavily used over the years. I began to feel what can only be described as a heartbeat. I tightly wrapped my fingers around its spine and began to pull the book forward. But just as it was about to come off of the shelf, the thumping stopped. I quickly pushed the book back into place.

I took a step back and refocused my eyes. Grey squiggles ran across my view. Before I could even process it the fish stopped swimming. My head started to feel light, almost as if I was high. I continued to step back until I reached the bookstore’s front door.

Just as I was about to open the door the owner peeped from behind the register and waved goodbye. I waved back and made my way outside. The old bookstore had always been my escape, but today it felt different, almost magical.

“Julliette! Amelia! Vincent! Get up here now!”

The kids rushed up the stairs into the kitchen.

“There’s some leftover meat in the fridge, y’all wannna share this as your treat? It’s a little past the expiration date but I think it’ll be fine.”

Vincent let out a joyful, yet piercing, scream.

“Alright, alright but we gotta make sure to save some leftovers for our chickens. We’ll never get to eat a as-close-to-a-farm-as-we-can-get fresh egg if they don’t start becoming comfortable around us. And after what y’all did earlier, that may take a while.”

Amelia hissed with disapproval.

“Lemme see… expiration was October 28th… takeaway nine… add the other number… then there’s daylight savings time… and— damnit Julliette I’m going, I’m going.”

Julliette was pacing around the kitchen. Waiting for a drop of juice to fall out of the package and splatter near her.

“How about I stir in some of last nights fish grease to add some extra flavor? We’ll call it ‘stirred and fried’ meat… ha ha get it? Like stir fry but it’s stir— okay y’all aren’t even paying attention anymore.”

The children stared at the empty pan on the stove.

“Alright, alright it won’t take longer than ten minutes... maybe fifteen. Oh yeah, y’all better remember your part of the deal by the way. Don’t expect this to be happening again if y’all don’t stop messing with them chickens.”

Each of the kids looked up at Court and gave a reassuring glance to show that they had an understanding. But Court knew it was only for that moment and they had every intention to do it again.

She laid down on top of the sand dune. The sea grass crawled underneath her dress and tickled her skin as she made a bed out of the debris. She faced the shoreline and closed her eyes as she waited for the sun to rise.

---

Something started to tickle her left hand. She looked down and saw a crab trying to pick at her finger. Both of the crab’s claws were missing and in its place were white nubs. She turned her hand over so that it was facing palm up. The crab climbed into the center and hunched down. She closed her eyes again and continued to wait for the sun to rise.