quivering from the pain of being left behind. I tried to console him that it’d be too cold, too deep, too scary, but this—this was a mighty injustice, to be left to wander the shore with his mama and little brother, particularly given his love of the hunters’ quarry. He had dressed as a cephalopod for Halloween for the previous three years, and most recently as a blue-ringed octopus costume that I stuffed and stitched together for him, complete with eyes made from pop lights.
