Stavanger Bay may we all die twice

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Arturo sees her ear flap but it is the only sign that the girl gives him. She does not speak, does not make any noise at all, nor does she move closer. He is reminded of Qilaq, at her shyness and apprehension; and just as he was with Szymon and Doe’s ebony daughter he is not so easily deterred by silence nor shyness. He wanted to near her, to close some of the distance for he wonders if she is chilled by the air of the beach: wintery and colder still as it rolled and whipped from the sea. She is a beautiful child, he thinks, in the way a father looks as his precious daughter: with little more than parental adoration. It is true that he has never considered children before his own and it had been a toss up as to how he’d react: if he would love children or absolutely despise them. Luckily, it is the first and not the latter. To Arturo children are a pure light, a goodness that he enjoyed having in his life. Slowly, Arturo army crawls closer — only a few inches. He still fears that he might startle her. He plops his head down upon his paws as if he is playing a game with her, his tail wagging in the sand in an invitation gesture. “Are you hungry?” The gangster asks her on the next breath. From gauging her approximate age he does not think she is old enough to hunt for herself and though it is clear to him that someone has been taking care of her his nurture instincts deign not to be ignored.

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