Octopus girls plait their hair. They use seaweed plucked from the bottom of the ocean to fasten down their wriggling strands. The girls will embarrass themselves at the gala if their hair is loose because the stands will reach out and stroke the prickly cheeks of any marriageable men nearby.
Lana unties her seaweed ribbons behind a curtain. Air bubbles spill from her mouth. As a handsome sailor drifts by, she lets her tentacle-hair free. They touch his face and stick to the collar of his naval uniform.
Maybe he would have been flattered if he hadn’t drowned that morning.