TERRY HAS MADE A REPLACEMENT. SWAPPED OUT THEÂ older lady for a
younger model, as you humans might say.
He walked by my tank on the way to his interview. Shoulders pulled toward his earlobes, damp palms: clearly anxious. When he departed, his gait was fluid, relaxed. I could tell it had been a successful interview.
Something about the way he walked seemed . . . familiar. I wish I had more chance to study it, but he left the building too quickly. I suppose I shall have my chance soon. This evening, perhaps.
Not a day too soon. Last night, I journeyed around the bend to see whether the rock crabs were molting, as they are most delicious when their shells are soft. The state of the floor was, frankly, alarming. After I returned to my tank, I spent quite a while picking bits of grime from between my suckers.
I do hope the young man starts his new job tonight. The rock crabs were not yet molting, but they will be tomorrow. I do not relish another trip over those disgusting floors.
As for the previous cleaning woman, I can only surmise she is not coming back. I shall miss her.
