I swim, I let my lump of golden bread cool down, sometimes it almost bobs out of the bowl because I forgot the lid in the cupboard. I stop to float over the muddy sea floor, glass houses far off to my right, the mostly-chopped-up obsidian pillar far in front of me. I eat the whole bread, even though it tastes extra greasy and gets all tough in the middle and it's still too hot so it almost burns the insides of my cheeks.

Then I carry around an empty wooden bowl, swimming aimlessly, tiny arm fins fluttering, back fins tense, steering myself mostly in circles on account of the wooden bowl in my hands.

I know what I should've asked Parro. What does "they" mean?

To sign pronouns for one person means you point to the right, or you point at the person. To say "they" means you circle your fingers at a group of people (real or imaginary) off to the side somewhere.

But Hamme's not a group of people. So what does it mean that Hamme's a they?

I know what else I should've said to Parro. In addition to going to concerts--when he and Ange mention all their friends' names--they talk about which people are coming to the store for the club, and also, when Ange said who was coming to the party, he said their names, so it's not just telling me that they're going to concerts when they sign Hamme and Anemon and Sta's names.

I didn't know Hamme was a they, not a he, because nobody tells me about Hamme except to say "we're going to a concert with Hamme" or "Hamme's coming to the party." Nobody tells me about Hamme's family or where he--I mean, Hamme--lives or what Hamme likes aside from the seashells he--Hamme--brings to the club and what if Hamme doesn't even want to learn any signing?

How am I going to teach signing in two days?

Will Parro expect me to teach all of them? What if my brain blanks out and I forget everything?

How am I going to teach any of them when I can't speak and tell them what this sign motion means so they can memorize it?

What did Ange and Parro argue about last night?

I didn't tell Parro we're almost out of milk but maybe he'll figure it out.

I have to clean up the pot and the filter over the stove and this bowl I'm still carrying. I'm swimming in circles above the seafloor and my legs are sore, that just occurs to me, I stop and float there.

I shut my eyes, the ocean currents carry only weak vibrations here. I'm far enough from the teardrops that the pulse of the busy travelways doesn't reach me, the people thrumming about their work, the energy of the volcanoes and the sways of the buildings can't touch my bones.

So these weak vibrations, maybe a faraway school of fish made them. Maybe a hunting pod of dolphins. Maybe a lone whale in the deep blue.