I ENJOY FINGERPRINTS, BUT THIS IS A BIT MUCH.
She has not come to clean in three days. The glass has become thick and rheumy. The floors are dull and caked with footprints. It is not good.
You know I have three hearts, yes? This must seem strange, considering that humans, and most other species, have only one. I wish I could claim a higher level of spiritual being on account of my multiple vascular chambers, but alas, two of my hearts basically control my lungs and gills. The other is called my organ heart, and it powers everything else.
I am accustomed to my organ heart stopping. It shuts down while I am swimming. It is one reason why I generally avoid the large main tank: too much swimming. Crawling is much gentler on my circulatory system, but the main tank floor, while rife with delicacies, is patrolled by the sharks. Swimming for long stretches tires me, so I suppose you could say I am well-suited for life in a small box.
Humans sometimes say my heart skipped a beat to convey surprise, shock, terror. This confused me at first because my organ heart skips beats, many of them, every time I swim. But when the cleaning woman fell from the stool, I was not swimming. And yet it stuttered.
I hope she heals, and not only because of the mess on the glass.
