There was a day when we travelled to a rock far from my nest and her frequent shelter, where Angy told to have a very special formation of flatness, which was quite unusual to my narrow world, and, what's stranger, its surface was covered in a layer of pink spheres. I must note that my anglerfish friend had a tense and moving way of storytelling, almost similar to great human writers, that could catch the audience's attention and trigger their interest in whatever she tells, and I was an octopus weird enough to be pulled into literally everything I heard whispered in the depths. So, when I awkwardly expressed my curiosity, she immediately decided for us to take a little trip and discover the spheres's whereabouts. Of course, she knew exactly what it was, but since I didn't, Angy kept it as a secret tended to be uncovered.

There was a little problem of speed between us two.

Angy was an excellent swimmer, like any other fish of her species, and she had more than awesome skills: she could slither silently in the heavy water with such grace and velocity that maybe sharks should admire her moves of perfection. Funny, even though Angy's build was born for a deadly predator, she once valued mysteries over prey. And, as for me, I swam beautifully like any other of an octopus, my fins flapped, my tentacles hovered in the waters, but cuteness in motion has nothing to do with speed, especially when compared with a gifted like Angy. I was lucky she was patient and lenient, unlike normal anglerfishes, but, as I said before, she was not wholly a hunter, and she sometimes would pause to wait for my slowness to catch up with her swiftness.

We approached the mentioned rock carefully, consciously cautioned for any danger.

"See, Dum-Dum," She whispered in fish language, pointing at a figure right next to the eggs, a fat fish with rocky skin and greyish color. "That's the owner of these pink stuff. A blobfish, if I'm not wrong."

Let me explain a bit more. 'Fish language' was our underwater type of communication, using a certain pattern of sounds, echoes and the bubbles that frequently came out of our mouths as the alphabetical signs, with a little help of facial expression.

And, before this little adventure, I most certainly had seen a very few number of blobfishes wandering close to my position of peeking out. They were forgettably normal for deep-sea creatures, regarding the extreme weirdness of Angy and me, but on their faces were the always, unchangeable sadness and mourn, with the big mouth pulled low, the tiny, watery eyes and the blobby skin that looked like a huge snout.

"Hm..." I nodded, in our own fishy way, and replied, "She guards the stuff?"

"Yup." Angy agreed, her light lure aimed at the sorrowful fish, "Those are her eggs, and yeah, they are pretty colorful, aren't they? Like, super bright pink it is." She muttered matter-of-factly, her voice loud just enough for us to hear, and barely whispered the last joke, which made us all crack up quietly.

As the muted laughters died down to a silence of careful observation, we stared blankly at the still figure of the rocky blobfish on the ocean floor of sand and soil, our thoughts ran in different, mysterious ways of worries. I looked at the blobfish's blobby face and wondered if she had ever known how to smile.

"Hey." I blurted out.

"Yeah?" Angy replied.

"Why does she always look so sad?" I asked innocently. Angy thought about my idle little question for a while, and, cocking her head to one side, she said.

"I don't know. Like," She paused, as though choosing the right words, "Like, everyone has their own sufferings and pains in life that other people normally cannot see, or aren't supposed to know."

"But, 'always'." I wasn't satisfied with her answer, "Did she not know joy ever in her life?"

"Some people are not as brave as others, to face fear and sadness. They carry that sadness with them everywhere, while the strong ones just simply solve the problem." She sounded almost like a philosopher when stating, and I was hypnotized in the blobfish's gloom, and her wise words, at least so wondrously erudite for a fish. She was a gem, a very experienced fish, that is.

"Am I the strong one or the weakling?" I asked, and she smiled.

"I believe that you're quite the superhero type." She nodded proudly, "But, well, you can only find yourself when you know what is your greatest fear."