she only ever entered through the window, in the dark of night, never through a doorway where she could be seen, stopped by if it was convenient to her needs, not altruistic, though she wore the guise well, he didn’t see through the veil, unwilling or just foolish enough to believe the fog was normal

the fool told himself it was love he felt, when it was simply the net she cast, never to be returned to the sea, to swim free, a bobbing lure, a promise of a hook through the lip and slow suffocation, he was another trophy hidden in the back of the attic, with so many other despoiled daydreamers