My sister and I dream of little birds crossed with fish. Scales rainbowed delicate feathers. Little wing-fins. I started it. And they come and come. Iridescent beautiful little birdfish, and sometimes they need our help. One became a screaming budgy. If only I could swim and fly. I have forgotten how. I haven’t been like this in months: hysterical tears, thoughts bunched up, pummelling boredepressiom. I used to want to be a mermaid, I don’t think that has to be embarrassing.