word count: 100
parallel: nami
…
She is sick of clouds and sunshine and old men. She wants to go back to her dark waters and dry maps. She wants her nakama.
She's scowling, picking up the only thing that's keeping her connected to her oceans.
She pauses, eyes widening. Something like fear creeps into her stomach, balling up into an anxious knot.
She reads on, hands crumpling it.
When she's done she bows her head into the paper, tears stinging her eyes.
She grabs the first old man that walks past her by the front of his garb, frantic. "I need to get home. Now."