I always have had a hiding place from the rest of the world. It was something special, forbidden, and if I told the city about it, they'd swarm me with questions, despite already knowing half the answers, because the subject manner of breaching the surface of our waters was a pipe dream for most, who just wanted to live comfortably. Everybody's seen the surface -- in pictures, movies, but how many have been there?

But my place was a small hole near the edge of the grass, dipping down just a few feet, and a rock in the middle. Depending on the tides, the rock could be covered with a slight film of the seas, or it would be dry, the water level an inch or two below it. It was large enough to accompany me using it as a seat, my legs in the waters or against the rock, curled upon my chest. Occasionally, when I was here, I could hear the blowing of the pipes of a nearby railtrack's trains, but that was only if it wasn't dark for too long. I always came at night. Quiet, comfortable, the sound of the waves my friend to the ear. And I'd just look up and admire the sky.

Up was the moon that She loved to bits, a dim white yellowish, ever-turning, as if it danced with itself in that endless cycle. What little light reached me was to be saved for the way back, so my eyes mostly peered towards the stars. The stars...numerous, friends. They were all friends, or at least I thought they were. Some shined more than others. They judged each other on that, but only in their own heads, because they were so numerous and cramped in some areas that it would be impossible to start fights with each other, because if one star lost that fight and fell, it would fall forever in the sky. I was taught to value this sky, and I sat there, motionless, looking up, doing exactly that. It was my place, alone, but in the view of her lover and the lover's group.

But that grew late, too, the moon starting to hurry back to the other side of the sea. The call to return before someone grew to my own running-off-tos. My leg slowly made its way into the water, the slight warmth to it a gentle surprise compared to the cold air. Careful as to not mess with the spikes on the back of my legs, those accursed things, I slowly dipped myself back in, holding onto that seat of a rock with the natural claw. I let go, looking up to the moon, and noting the position to swim to return to Sugarteara and sleep in a little later to make up for this.