Stavanger Bay to light a candle is to cast a shadow

We can fade here?

Those navy eyes, ball-bearing eyes, roll once in their sockets. Alright, mammy. And karma must've been pressing her ear to the door because the crab reached out and pinched him hard on the mouth as if on cue.

Aw, shit. His eyes water up. For such a little creature, they sure had some torque in that alien arm of theirs. Knaven swims in his gaze like looking through an old 19th-century cylinder glass window. He ends its life with a careful amount of jaw pressure to its head and with a crack it is gone. It drops soundless to the sand. I must be round four times your age and still greener than you. At killing crabs anyway.

They enjoy a small seaside meal. Miranda reflects on the distant past when he would lie on his stomach aside a riverbank on the month or so when water would run as a liquid and how he would carefully teeth the meat away from the dirt colored carapaces of crawfish. Dew all over his stomach and his palms.