Let's recap, shall we?

Destination 1: San Diego, San Diego Marine Park. After days of odd hallucinations brought on by the hours and hours spent in solitude, being stripped from my penguins, and with no one to show me any shred of attention, I completely lost it. After an incident involving some penguin plushies, I was transferred.

Destination 2: Brazil, Brasil Zoo. In my tiny, cramped tank, I was forced to watch a crowd of spectators ogle over my ever-so-popular neighbors, the penguins. For days, I would do nothing but sit in silence, drifting in and out of consciousness. The silence was deafening. The only thing I could hear was the sound of my soul crumbling beneath me and Life having his never-ending guffaw. Soon, I was transferred because there was no sense in putting money into feeding an octopus that no one cared about.

Destination 3: Kenya, Nairobi Zoo. For the first few days, I was overwhelmed with a new legion of fans. I had gotten my hopes up that things might be taking a turn for the better, but Life got a kick out of giving me just a tiny taste of fame before ripping it from me yet again. When a tiny penguin chick was found being attacked by an octopus, I'm labeled as a monster just because I'm an octopus too. That, and there was a little misunderstanding with my arm animal penguin, which people thought I was strangling like some kind of voodoo doll. I was soon transferred after many complaints were filed against having such a monster in their midst. It was bad juju.

Destination 4: Japan, Osaka Aquarium Kaiyukan. It wasn't so bad at first. But that's usually how it goes. I got a few curious visitors, none of them really that interested, or thinking I'd look better on a menu. Granted, I'd given up at this point and wasn't doing anything interesting, but it's not like that mattered. I wasn't next to the penguin exhibit, but I was next to the entrance to the section of the aquarium where they could be found. It wouldn't have been so bad if tourists from San Diego hadn't come and recognized me. After people heard about the plushie incident, they avoided me like the plague. Don't go see that octopus. He's a penguin-hating monster.

Destination 5: Spain, Zoo Aquarium de Madrid. Everything was going fine at first. I had a few spectators. Then some bratty penguin chicks in the habitat across from mine started making faces at me. I ignored them at first. Then some human children thought it was funny and joined in. I got so irritated that I glared at them and pounded on the glass to get them to buzz off. They ran away and told their parents that they were just looking at the octopus when it tried to attack them. Some angry mothers reported it and I was transferred a few days later.

Destination 6: England, London Zoo. I don't recall ever signing up for the breeding program, but apparently, the Brits felt they needed tiny octopuses swimming around. That's right. They put me in a tank with a she-octopus and expected us to . . . well, ask your parents if you need a clue. It was really awkward. The first couple of days, she and I spent our time on opposite sides of the tank, exchanging a few words of conversation here and there — usually just small talk like 'good morning,' 'good night,' and such. Then she finally worked up the nerve to come and talk to me.

"Hey," she'd said, coming to my side, her light-orange skin glowing softly in the fluorescent light.

My hearts started to pound as I tried and failed to make eye contact. "Hey," I replied quietly, feeling a lump form in my throat.

"So . . . you know, we've been sharing a habitat for two days and we haven't even introduced ourselves yet. I'm Glenne," she said, fiddling with the rocks and soot at the bottom of the tank. I hadn't realized until now how thick, yet gentle, her British accent was. I realized that it was similar to Private's. And 007, but that's irrelevant.

I shifted uncomfortably. "Dave," I replied, still finding it difficult to make eye contact. Mainly because I was afraid of where this conversation might be leading to. Don't get me wrong, she seemed like a decent enough octopus. Under different circumstances, I might've . . . you know, considered it. But I was still anticipating the prospect of seeing my fluffballs again. If I . . . you know . . . I would die a few months later. Not to mention that I had no idea how to interact with women. Not a clue.

"Nice to meet you," Glenne replied. "Officially, anyway."

"You too," I replied softly. A moment of silence passed as I stared determinedly at the soot and algae beneath me.

"I won't bite, you know," Glenne said finally. I looked up at her as she smiled calmly at me, coyly trying to meet my eye. "Look, I get it if this is weird for you. It is for me too."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I just, uh . . . I'm not sure I want to do this," I started, my eyes flitting from her to the ground. "I was just thrown in here and expected to get to it."

Glenne laughed. It was actually a pretty cute laugh, but I tried to push that thought from my mind as soon as it entered.

"How do you think I feel?" she asked. "They didn't tell me this was going to happen. They think we're just octopuses and we don't have feelings. They don't think we should have to think about it. I didn't know about this until I overheard the zookeepers the day you arrived."

I looked down for a moment, and then met her eye again. "How long have you been in this zoo?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

She thought for a moment. "It's been a while. Twenty-two, twenty-three years maybe?" she said thoughtfully. "Which zoo did you come from?"

"Most recently, Madrid," I replied, bitterness underlying my tone.

Her brows pinched. "Really? I don't hear the accent," she observed.

"Because I'm not from Madrid. I'm from New York," I replied, no longer able to maintain eye contact.

"Oh," she replied with an understanding nod. "America. Why were you transferred from there?"

I met her eyes for a moment, and then looked back down, unresponding. When a few moments of silence passed, she gently rested one of her arms near the top of one of mine, where my shoulder would have been if I had one. I looked at it, and then shifted my gaze back to her. She was looking at me with kind, understanding eyes.

"Octopuses are lonely creatures," she said after a brief moment of locked eye contact. "We don't get many opportunities to vent to anyone. We aren't sure how to open up. More than that, we're afraid to. No one could possibly understand what we've gone through, right? Why bother?" She wrapped a couple of arms firmly around a couple of mine. "I can't say I'll understand what you've gone through. But I can say you'll feel a lot better after you've gotten it off your nonexistent chest." She smiled and locked her eyes with mine, willing me to give in. It was as if . . . she saw all of my pent-up pain that I'd kept inside for what felt like years. It was as if she knew my story just by studying the hurt in my eyes.

I was only able to maintain eye contact for a moment before breaking away. I did want to talk about it . . . but, honestly, the thought of telling her everything I'd been through was terrifying. What if she thought I was a fool? — that I wasn't natural? I'd had enough people mock me in the past several months. I looked at her again and my insecurities immediately faded. The way she looked at me with her soft, sympathetic eyes made me feel as if all I had to do was tell her my problems and they would go away. I sighed heavily and closed my eyes.

"I was . . . well . . . I was very popular in New York for a while," I started. I looked at her, expecting her to immediately burst out laughing, like, You? Popular? Ha! Forgive me for finding that hard to believe. But instead, she just nodded, like, Go on. Tell me your story.

And before I could control it, everything came flooding out of me like water crashing through a dam, finally cracking after being held under so much pressure. I told her how the penguins had come and stolen the spotlight. How I'd saved Private from drowning, and shortly after became a fatherly figure toward him and his three brothers. I told her how I'd taken them into the city with intentions of getting rid of them, and instead ended up backing out and protecting them from the dogs, Harry and Marv. I told her how I'd become determined not to let anything happen to them, how I'd come to love them with all of my hearts. I told her all of our adventures together, recalling the tiniest details. I told her how they had quickly started to grow up, and how that came with them growing away from me. I told her of all the events leading up to our final argument. I told her about my seven days spent alone, wishing they would come talk to me again. I told her about the day I'd tried to talk to them, and how they'd turned me away. I told her how I'd come close to trying to make amends with them, and how I'd been transferred before I had the chance.

I continued before I could stop myself. I told her about the events that happened in San Diego, and how close I'd come to cracking. I told her about Brazil, how I'd been reduced to a tiny tank to which the pipelines to the bathroom were connected. I told her about my dream on my plane ride to Nairobi, and how I'd gotten a small taste of fame there again. I told her about the incident involving the alleged "voodoo doll" and how I'd been transferred to Japan, where I was shunned after my past in San Diego had come to light. I told her about the bratty kids in Madrid. When I realized I'd gotten her caught up to now, it had been three hours.

"I just . . . don't seem to fit in anywhere anymore," I finished, feeling a weight lift off me. I felt . . . really good. After recapping on all the pain I'd suffered, it somehow felt good. How was that possible? How did talking about your pain make it easier? Wouldn't it make it more difficult? It didn't make any sense. I felt like I was losing touch with my emotions.

When I realized there was silence, I looked back up to see Glenne, watching me carefully, her expression indecipherable. Finally, she nodded slowly.

"Wow," she said, and I realized that was the first thing she'd said since I began my story.

I arched an eyebrow. "'Wow'?" I repeated. "I just recounted everything I've been through in painstaking detail, and all you have for me is wow?"

She fought off a grin. "Big wow," she replied.

I coughed incredulously. Then, for some reason, I started laughing. I don't know why. This wasn't funny. My story deserved a little more than 'big wow.' But, nonetheless, I was laughing and I couldn't stop. Glenne started laughing right after I did. Every time we got close to pulling ourselves together, we would look at each other again and erupt into another round of breathless guffaw. Her face turned a burnt orange color and I could only imagine what color my face had to be turning. The thought just made me laugh harder.

It felt amazing. I realized that I hadn't laughed that hard in my entire life, even with the penguins.

The thought finally made me able to compose myself, although I was still smiling. I looked at Glenne as she rubbed her eye and coughed out a few straggling laughs. She looked at me and smiled back.

"Thank you," I said finally, feeling that it was necessary to express my gratitude. "I . . . really needed that."

Glenn shrugged. "You're welcome," she replied. Then she surprised me by floating herself forward and wrapping a few of her arms around me in a hug. I stared blankly into space for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. Finally, I awkwardly returned the gesture, a small smile tugging at my lips. A few moments later, she pulled away and looked at me, her arms still around my neck. We held eye contact for a moment before she said, "So, are we gonna get to it or what?"

My smile fell and I stared bewilderedly at her, completely caught off guard, and I started stuttering. "I — uh — now? Um . . ." I turned my gaze to the side, my jaw hanging in mid-response.

"Dave," Glenne said, bringing my gaze back to her. "I'm joking," she said with a humorous smile.

I pressed my lips together and nodded, fighting with everything in me not to smile as my face burned. "That wasn't funny," I said, finding it hard not to look at her for a change.

She shrugged again. "Was to me," she replied nonchalantly.

We lasted about four seconds before bursting into laughter again – this one harder than the last.

— § —

The next day, I woke up before Glenne.

For a few minutes, I waited patiently for her to wake, staring determinedly at the soot and algae beneath me, but my eyes kept drifting over to her. It got to where I couldn't look away. I wasn't exactly sure why at the time. I just knew she looked . . . well, beautiful. I mean — peaceful. That's — what I meant to say.

I kept thinking about the night before. How we'd conversed so calmly after two days of awkward silence. How I'd opened up to her, and how relieved I felt afterward. How we'd laughed. How she'd laughed . . .

I felt my hearts begin to pound as I realized where my thoughts were headed. No, not there, you dirty-minded vermin! I mean that I was starting to think of the prospect of getting too close to her just to be transferred again. How long were the humans going to wait for us to . . . you know . . . before they got impatient and sent me away, just to move in another octopus that would . . . take advantage of her? I was mad at myself for caring about her well-being, but I couldn't help myself. She was the first to genuinely express kindness toward me since New York. It really annoyed me how I had this quirk where I quickly became attached to anyone who seemed to care about me, especially after facing so much rejection.

"Good morning," Glenne's voice said.

I was so deep in thought that I hadn't realized she'd started to wake up. I prayed that I wasn't staring at her when she did. "Good morning," I replied with a smile.

She rose up and stretched her limbs. "They serve breakfast yet?" she asked.

"No," I replied, "but they should soon."

Sure enough, the humans tossed us our grub a few minutes later, but we barely ate. We had already engaged in conversation. This time, Glenne told me her story. She had hatched in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Britain. Some wildlife activists had saved her from a heavily polluted area and put her in this zoo at a young age. She'd been alone her entire life.

"The only interactions I've had with anyone is with the humans on the other side of the glass." Glenne looked down. "I, um . . . I know we've only been talking since last night, but I wanted you to know that . . . this. The company. It's nice," she admitted, not meeting my eye.

I smiled a little and looked down. Then I softly cleared my throat. "Yeah," I replied. "For me too."

She looked up at me and I met her eye. We held eye contact for a few moments before breaking away. A moment later, she frowned and shifted.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I was just thinking . . ." She refused eye contact. "When you were talking about your — what did you call them?" she asked, looking up at me from the corner of her eyes. "Your little fluffballs?" she asked with a small smile.

I looked down, my cheeks flushing. I had told her so much last night. I didn't think I'd used that term. I nodded slowly as I met her eye again.

She smiled softly. "You really care about them, don't you?" she asked.

A moment of silence passed before I answered. "Yeah," I said softly.

She nodded, but she didn't respond.

"Hey," I said, reaching out an arm and taking one of hers. "What's wrong?"

She looked at our interlocked arms for a moment before I felt her grip tighten a little. Then she smiled softly at me. "It's nothing. Really."

I studied her. "Are you sure?" I asked lamely.

"Yeah," she insisted. She nudged me. "Hey, stop getting all sentimental on me. I'm supposed to be the one with the hormonal imbalance," she joked.

I smiled a little, trying to will myself to laugh, but for some reason, I couldn't. It was the way she held her eyes. How she was looking at me, but not really looking at me. I could sense that there was something being left unsaid here, but I couldn't force her to talk to me. I felt the need to try to get her to speak her mind, though.

"You know," I started, my eyes flitting from her to the ground, "my biggest regret in — everything that happened with the penguins is . . . not being brave enough to say what I needed to say before we were separated. Not having that sense of closure, I think that's what hurts the most. I could've gotten over the ultimate rejection from them, but I don't even know either way whether they would've or not. They say what you don't know won't hurt you, but that's probably the biggest load of spoiled shrimp I've ever heard. Not knowing . . . it hurts so much worse."

She maintained eye contact for a moment, and then she sighed. "It's just that . . . I'm not sure how long they're going to let you stay here. You were only brought here to . . . you know. But I don't want you to leave anytime soon. I know it's not in octopus nature to enjoy the company of another, but despite, I still find it hard not to feel lonely at times, especially being confined to this tank."

I smiled softly and nodded. I knew that feeling all too well. "I can relate," I said.

Glenne broke eye contact. "That's why I've always disliked humans. I know some of them mean well, but they have no idea. They think we don't have real feelings. They use us for entertainment and experiments, not even giving a second thought to what we want. We have dreams too. But none of that matters." She stared down at the soot and algae as if she blamed it for the cruelty of the humans. "I don't want that from anyone," she continued, and it took me a moment to process the fact that she'd shifted the topic back to me and our . . . situation. "I just want a friend. I know that's weird for an octopus to say, but I can't help it. In the ocean, you know that there are other creatures living among you, even though you don't interact with them much. But here, you're really truly . . ."

Her words trailed for a moment and we finished together, "alone."

We made eye contact again and sat in silence, feeling a sense of understanding flowing through us, around us, encircling us like a whirlpool. We had lived very different lives, yet somehow, when it came down to it, we completely understood what the other went through. I felt the tension growing and decided to try and make light of the situation.

I cleared my throat. "Y-Yeah, I get what you're saying. But I don't think it's weird. I mean, look at me. I tried to father four baby penguins. I'm the epitome of weird," I said with a laugh.

Glenne laughed, though I did notice a bit of relief wash over her as the tension was alleviated. "I think it's okay to be a little weird," she replied, coyly meeting my eye. "Just because we're octopuses doesn't mean that we're constrained to a set of requirements."

"Yeah," I agreed, "let me just go find the How to be an Octopus Handbook: For Dummies. Chapter three has a wonderful segment on how we should pump our arms through the water," I said, chuckling.

Glenne laughed again. "Isn't it something like this?" she said before propelling herself from the tank floor, sending sand and soot everywhere, including into my face.

"Hey!" I said, swatting at the water.

"Sorry!" Glenne replied, covering her smile with an arm.

I smirked. "Actually, I think it's more like this!" I said, propelling myself upward and gathering up soot as I became level with her. Then I flung it in her direction and she reeled backward.

"Hey! Stop!" she said, laughing and swatting at the water.

"You started it!" I protested.

Glenne pressed her lips together in an evil grin and dove back down to the tank floor, gathering up more soot, but I lunged forward to stop her.

"Oh, no you don't!" I said, grabbing her arms and attempting to stop her advance. She managed to fling more soot at me and I reeled back when it landed in my mouth. "Pah!" I spat.

Glenne laughed.

I tried to be annoyed, but I couldn't stop grinning. "That's not funny!" I said, flinging more soot at her.

Suddenly, we were engaged in a rigorous battle as we propelled ourselves around the tank, throwing soot at each other, while trying to simultaneously swat soot away. Soon there was so much soot floating around that there was no escaping it. We called a truce and floated to the top of the tank where the water was clear, trying to steady our breathing and heart rates.

"Ah," Glenne said as she rubbed her eye.

"You okay?" I asked, still breathing heavily.

"Yeah, I think I just have some soot in my eye," she responded, adamantly trying to remove the speck from her eye.

"Here, let me see," I said, moving forward and pulling her arms away from her face. "I see it," I said, reaching an arm up and gently pushing the soot off her eyelid, trying not to . . . get distracted. She blinked a couple of times and sighed with relief.

"Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome," I replied.

We maintained eye contact again and I was suddenly aware of how close we were to each other. I had the urge to back away, but I felt as if I'd been frozen in place. I'm not sure if it was the lighting or not, but I think I noticed Glenne's cheeks turn that burnt orange shade again. She broke eye contact and her eyes locked onto something. I followed her gaze and saw that a crowd had gathered on the other side of the glass. I suddenly felt very self-conscious. I had no idea when we'd even opened, nor how long they had been standing there watching us. In fact, I'd forgotten that we were even in a zoo.

"What do you think is going through their minds about the crazy octopuses?" I asked, once again trying to lift the awkwardness of the situation.

"Hm," Glenne mused, "maybe they think it's some kind of whacked out mating ritual."

My eyes widened a bit and I looked at her, initially mortified at the thought of the humans thinking we did all of that to come into heat, but, once again, I tried and failed not to laugh. Glenne joined in and once again we were engrossed in uncontrollable laughter, unable to keep ourselves afloat as we sank back to the bottom of the tank. The thought that the humans could deduce such a wild explanation for our actions was just too priceless. Then, Glenne did absolutely the strangest thing for a creature without a nose, something I would've thought impossible for octopuses.

In the midst of her laughter, she snorted.

We looked at each other as she gasped and clamped three or four of her arms over her mouth. Then we started laughing even harder.

"You lied to me!" I said between laughs.

Glenne looked at me curiously as she tried to compose herself. "About what?" she inquired, also between laughs.

"You told me you were an octopus," I replied, trying to pull myself together. "Not a pig in disguise."

As soon as I said it, I was afraid she'd take it offensively, but she instead started laughing again and playfully shoved me.

"Shut up," she protested. Then she quickly composed herself and sideways glanced at me before fixing her gaze on the ground, her face still a deep burnt orange color. I chided myself for letting the thought cross my mind that it was . . . kind of adorable.

I came to her side. "Hey, I was kidding," I assured her.

"I know," she said. She tried and failed to make eye contact, but she was smiling, so that was good.

I looked at her curiously. "What's wrong?" I asked.

She shifted and smiled a little broader, and I was sure her face couldn't turn any deeper a shade of burnt orange. "I just — I've done embarrassing things before, but it was always in front of humans and they just laughed and shrugged it off ten minutes later. I usually don't let it bother me, but . . . I've never actually done anything embarrassing in front of . . . of . . . someone I . . ."

My hearts started to race with anticipation as she tried to get the words to form. As much as I wanted to know what she was going to say, I could tell she was struggling to say it, and I wasn't going to make her say anything she didn't want to. I put an arm on hers, right below her neck. She looked at me.

"You don't have to feel embarrassed in front of me," I told her calmly. "Besides, I wore Mickey Mouse ears, remember?" She smiled both humorously and gratefully and held eye contact. This time, we didn't break away. I had this sudden realization then that ever since Glenne and I had started talking, I hadn't once thought about getting any attention from the humans. Not a single shadow or sliver of a thought.

I'd been thinking of ways to get attention from Glenne.

— § —

"Please teach me?" Glenne begged.

I couldn't look at her. I knew I would give in if I did.

"I don't know," I said, turning my head every time she moved into my peripheral vision.

Glenne had me backed into a wall, and I had no choice but to look at her. "Please, Dave?" she begged again, clasping two of her arms under her chin.

I laughed and rolled my eyes. "Fine," I replied, giving in as I knew I would.

"Yay!" Glenne cried giddily. "Okay, what do I do first?" she asked anxiously.

I took a deep breath, willing myself to relax. I wasn't sure why I was so tense. Or nervous. I tried to shove the thought from my mind. "It's not that hard, really. You just, ah," I held up a couple of my arms and demonstrated, "like that. See, you just kind of will your skin to mold into the shape you want, and then change the color of your skin so it looks even more real."

I had made a small turtle using my "arm animal" technique I'd used back in Nairobi. I'd briefly mentioned it last week when telling her my story, but it'd recently been brought back up in a conversation I'd had with her earlier. She'd been begging me to teach her how to do it the whole evening. I tried to change the subject a few times, but she kept insisting. It wasn't necessarily that I didn't want to teach her, it was more that I had recently started feeling really strange around her. I wasn't exactly sure what the feeling was, but oddly enough, I kind of craved the feeling. I couldn't explain it.

Glenne looked at her arms and tried to mimic my turtle. "Like this?" she asked doubtfully, looking from me to her creation.

"Not bad," I said, looking at her turtle. I reached across with an arm and adjusted its legs. "They're usually more curled back like this, though."

I noticed her face mildly turn that shade of burnt orange at my touch. I prayed she couldn't hear the consecutive thump-thump-thumping of my hearts. I'd noticed that for the week that I'd been there, this feeling had been coming stronger and more frequently for some reason.

"Show me another one," she urged. She had this way with her eyes — I could never say no to them. I didn't think about it at the time, but I think I found it harder to say no to her than I had the penguins.

"Okay," I said thoughtfully. "How about . . ." I made a zebra.

She cocked her head. "What's that?" she asked, catching me off guard.

"A zebra," I answered. "You've never seen one?"

"I told you," Glenne replied, "I hatched in the ocean. Then I was put in this tank. I've never been to any other part of the zoo. I've never seen any other animal than the few I see in the tanks around me. And humans, of course."

I looked at my little zebra in thought. Then I looked through the glass of our tank, where the dark hallways stretched on through the building like a vein. There was no one around, as it was well past closing. I looked up at where the little hatch was located that the zookeepers always dropped our food through. I disassembled my zebra and floated upward toward it.

"Where are you going?" Glenne asked, trailing behind me.

"You mean, where are we going," I said quietly, surfacing. There was about two feet between the surface of the water and the ceiling, where the fluorescent lights illuminated our habitat. On the wall above the water was a large, rectangular sheet of metal. It swung inward on hinges, but didn't swing outward.

"What are you talking about?" Glenne asked warily, but I was too busy studying the hatch to look at her. I looked at the suckers along my arms and placed three arms firmly onto the hatch, and then I pulled back. The door opened about an inch before my suckers pulled free and the door closed. The hatch was probably two inches thick and made of a very dense material.

"Dave, what are you doing?" Glenne asked, placing a few of her arms across my path as I prepared a second attempt.

I smiled. "I'm taking you sightseeing."

A sense of panic flashed across Glenne's expression and she backed away from me. "You mean, go outside? As in, outside our tank? Outside the zoo?" she asked, looking from me to the hatch with wide eyes.

"No, sightseeing around our own habitat," I replied sarcastically. "Of course, I mean going outside! Now, help me get this open."

"What! Are you crazy?" Glenne said, rushing forward and pushing my arms away from the hatch. "We can't go outside! It's dangerous out there!"

"And at any sign of a threat, all we have to do is camouflage ourselves and we'll be fine," I assured her.

Glenne shook her head violently. "No, no, no, no, no. I am not doing that. I'm not leaving my tank," she said sternly before going back under the water. I followed her as she settled herself at the tank floor, disturbing the soot.

"Hey," I said, coming to her side. "What's wrong?"

She sideways glanced at me, and then fixed her gaze back to the tank floor determinedly. "I . . ." She sighed. "I have never left this tank before. This is all I've ever known since I was put here. I can't leave. I'm . . . scared."

"Well, maybe it's time you decided to venture outside your comfort zone," I replied. "The rewards are worth it." She didn't respond. I smiled softly and moved around her so I was in front of her. Then I tilted her chin. "Hey, look at me," I said gingerly. She reluctantly met my eye. "I'll be with you the whole time."

She held eye contact for a few moments, studying me as if for the first time. I nodded encouragingly and she sighed.

"Do you even know your way around London?" she asked doubtfully.

"Nope," I replied with a smile. "But that's where the adventure comes in."

She still seemed reluctant and thought for a moment, and then she sighed and nodded with a smile. I could sense that she was struggling between feeling excited and absolutely terrified. I hoped it didn't show, but I was having that same struggle.

I went back to the hatch with Glenne at my side. She followed my lead in sticking six arms each to the hatch and we pulled on it together. It pulled open and we used our remaining two arms to slither out of the hatch, gently pressing it shut behind us. We were in a refrigerated room that seemed to be a storage unit for various types of raw seafood for the animals.

"Phase 1 is a success," I said, causing her to giggle softly. I took one of her arms in mine. "Follow my lead."

I led her to the door and opened it slightly, checking the area. "All clear," I whispered as I pulled her out into a warmer hallway. She huddled close to me and gripped my arm.

"Are you sure we're not going to be caught?" she asked, fear creeping into her voice.

"We'll be fine," I assured her. "This may not be New York, but it is a city. And I know how to work my way around a city," I told her confidently. She tried to relax, but still seemed really tense. "Come on," I said, tugging her arm a bit. I smiled at her. "Adventure is out there, and it's waiting for us." She smiled back, but I could tell she was becoming more nervous by the second.

We went down a corridor, past dimly lit tanks with fish and other water creatures. I saw a sign that pointed us toward the exit and led her to it. Peeking out, I saw a sign across the way that said Reptile House. I slowly pulled her out of the Aquarium and along the side of the building.

"Stay close to the shadows," I whispered. "It's easier to hide should any humans show up."

I saw another sign that listed the different ways you could go to see certain animals. Thankfully the text was large enough where I didn't need glasses. It indicated the following: Gorilla Kingdom was to the right, African Bird Safari was to the right, Colobus Monkeys were straight ahead, Restrooms were straight ahead, Birds of Prey was straight ahead, and —

"Aha," I said mischievously, "entrance is this way," I said, pulling Glenne to the left. She trailed behind as I spotted the entrance in the near distance and led her to it, careful to keep an eye on our surroundings.

"You see," I said as we approached the gate, "the great thing about being an octopus," I let go of Glenne's arm and squeezed through the gate, "is that you don't have to worry about tight spaces."

Glenne smiled slightly and hesitated. I reached an arm back through the bars. "Do you trust me?" I asked, looking at her from the other side of the gate.

She studied my outstretched arm for a moment before meeting my eye and grasping it. "Yes," she said half-insecurely, half-suspensefully. I maintained my grip on her arm as she passed through the gate and I looked around. I grinned as something caught my eye.

"Dave," Glenne said warily, staring in the direction I was looking, "what are you thinking?"

I sideways glanced at her. "I'm thinking the first thing we're gonna do . . . is teach you how to catch a bus."

— § —

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Glenne protested, gripping the trunk of the tree we were hiding in as I tried to pull her free. "I am not getting on that thing!"

"Come on, Glenne! We're gonna miss it!" I argued, somehow finding it difficult to stop smiling in this frustrating situation.

"I don't even know what it is!" Glenne argued back, still resisting. "All I know is that it's big, loud, and capable of going really fast!"

"Glenne, I used to ride these things all the time back in New York. They look a little different here, but they're essentially the same thing, from what I can see. You told me you trusted me, did you lie?"

Glenne huffed impatiently. "No, I didn't lie. I trust you just fine. I do not trust that thing!" she argued.

Just then, I heard the bus squeal to a stop at the bus stop underneath the long branch that hung high over the road that we were standing on. I suddenly got an idea and released Glenne.

"Okay," I said nonchalantly. She looked at me skeptically.

"Really?" she asked suspiciously. "Just like that?"

I shrugged. "Yep. Guess I'll just have to go have fun all by myself," I said, turning and slowly making my way down the branch. "A lone, lonely loner," I added over my shoulder.

"Wait," Glenne called after, "you can't just — you're just going to leave me here?"

"No, silly. I'm going to prove to you that there's nothing to be afraid of," I replied over my shoulder.

"What?" Glenne gasped. "Dave, you can't just get on that bus like a maniac!"

"Well, if you're so sure it's not safe, I don't mind being your guinea pig," I said, turning back as I reached the end of the branch, just above the bus.

"Dave!" Glenne protested, releasing the trunk and moving a few feet down the branch before stopping again in fear. "You can't just drop down onto that bus!"

"Watch and learn, dearest," I said as I prepared to drop off the limb.

"No!" Glenne said, rushing forward with her arms outstretched. I took the opportunity to grab her arms and throw us from the branch. She let out a terrified squeal as we landed soundlessly on the top of the bus. She clutched me in terror as the bus started moving forward. She looked at me in shock and outrage. "I can't believe you just did that! You're insane!"

I laughed. "Thank goodness for that, 'cause if I wasn't this would probably never work," I replied.

She looked at me incredulously and scoffed. "Dave, I swear, if you don't get me off of this thing and take me back to the zoo —"

"Okay," I cut in, "tell you what. We'll see one sight. If you still want to go back to the zoo after that, we'll go. Deal?"

Glenne considered for a moment, obviously unhappy about it, but possibly willing. "Just . . . one sight?"

"Just one," I promised, "unless you beg for more," I added with a suave smile.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "I can't believe I'm letting you drag me into this," she muttered. "Fine," she said a little louder. "Deal. But you better take me back after that!"

"I promise," I assured her. She looked at me sternly, but she didn't reply, nor did she release me for the entire ride. I didn't really mind that, though . . .

The city was beautiful. Not quite as beautiful as New York, in my opinion, but that could've just been my bias for my home city. We rode for about fifteen minutes before coming to another bus stop and, after taking a moment to look for an opportunity to slip by the humans, pulled myself and Glenne into an alley.

"Follow me," I said, scaling the nearest building. She reluctantly trailed behind.

"Dave, what if we're caught out here?" she whispered as we climbed.

"That won't happen," I replied confidently. "If any humans do see us, we'll just camouflage ourselves somewhere and they'll lose our trail."

We reached the top of the building and I took a couple of Glenne's arms to help her over the edge. Then I quickly put an arm across her eyes.

"Keep your eyes closed," I said.

"What, why?" Glenne said, trying to push my arm away, but I held it firmly in place.

"Because," I started, "I want to pick the perfect scene for you to see for your first time in the city." I looked around and immediately knew what I wanted to show her. I led her to the opposite edge and slowly pulled my arm away. "Okay, open them."

Her eyes fluttered open and I heard a small gasp escape her throat. I have to admit, whatever we were looking at was absolutely beautiful. There was a tall column in the middle of some kind of a town square with a statue of a man on top. On either side, there was a magnificent fountain illuminated by the city lights and a light set at the base of the spigot, which made the water seem to glow. I looked back to Glenne, who was staring with awe, and quickly realized that, as beautiful as the sight was, there was one thing that would never compare.

"It's beautiful," Glenne said breathlessly.

"Yeah," I replied quietly, my eyes still fixed on her.

She finally tore her eyes away and looked at me, her jaw still hanging open. She blinked and came back to reality.

"What? Why are you staring at me like that?" she asked.

I swallowed hard, surprised by her tone. I shook my head, trying to play it cool. "It's nothing," I insisted. I coughed, deciding to attempt a subject change. "Well, I guess we'll go back to the zoo now."

"Wait, what?" Glenne replied, putting an arm on one of mine as I started back the way we'd come.

"What what?" I inquired, obviously playing dumb.

Glenne looked down, clearly realizing she had forgotten about my promise to her. "I . . . uh, well —"

"Now, now," I said, taking her arm in mine, "I promised you that we'd go back to the zoo after seeing one sight. We've seen our sight, so let's go."

"Oh," Glenne replied, disappointment creeping in her voice, "well, I was — gonna say that . . . maybe we could see one or two more," she suggested, looking in my direction, but not meeting my eye.

"Oh, no," I said, holding up an arm. "I made a promise. And when I make a promise, I never ever break that promise. Now, come along." I started pulling her back the way we'd come, but she tugged back.

"Oh, but, Dave!" she complained. "London is just so much more beautiful than I ever imagined. Can we please see more of it? We may not get another opportunity like this."

"Now, Glenne," I said, crossing two arms in front of me, "first, I have to force you to even come this far, and now you're dragging me into it?" I asked, trying and failing to hide a smile.

Glenne shifted. "Well . . ." she said, searching the ground for a response.

"Come on, say it," I said, now full-on grinning.

Glenne pressed her lips together in a bittersweet smile and rolled her eyes.

"Say it," I pressed, leaning in closer and turning my ear towards her.

Glenne muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" I asked, leaning forward and cupping an arm around my ear.

Glenne laughed and shoved me away. "Okay, fine, you were right," she finally admitted. "Now let's go see the city, you sore winner."

I grinned and held out an arm. "Shall we?"

Glenne took my arm in hers with a smile. "We shall."

— § —

Note: The quotes in this chapter were: "I'm supposed to be the one with the hormonal imbalance," spoken by Ellie (portrayed by Queen Latifah) in Ice Age 3: Dawn of the Dinosaurs (2009); "Venture outside your comfort zone. The rewards are worth it," by Rapunzel (portrayed by Mandy Moore) in Tangled (2013); "Adventure is out there," spoken by Ellie (portrayed by Elie Docter) in Up (2009); "Do you trust me?" spoken by Aladdin (portrayed by Scott Weinger) in Aladdin (1992); "A lone, lonely loner," spoken by Sid (portrayed by John Leguizamo) in Ice Age 3: Dawn of the Dinosaurs (2009); "Thank goodness for that, 'cause if I wasn't this would probably never work," spoken by Captain Jack Sparrow (portrayed by Johnny Depp) in Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End (2007); and "Just one, unless you beg for more," spoken by Prince Naveen (portrayed by Bruno Campos) in Princess and the Frog (2009); "Wait, what?" spoken by Anna (portrayed by Kristen Bell) in Frozen (2013); "And when I make a promise, I never ever break that promise," by Rapunzel (portrayed by Mandy Moore) in Tangled (2013). The comment about 007 was a reference to James Bond. The comment about Dave not being in touch with his emotions was a reference to Inside Out (2015), as was the chapter's title. Glenne is also the name of John Malkovich's first wife.

Next chapter will be posted on August 17, 2023.