The salmon is staring at her now, watching her move slowly into its line of vision, hair hanging around her face like a broken net, all of her skin drooping straight down. It makes you realize just how much gravity has to do with the way your face has settled, how different you’d look if you walked on your hands your whole life instead of your feet: eyebrows halfway up your forehead, drooping into your hairline, top lip hanging open and showing your teeth.
