THEY DO NOT SEE IT.
For weeks, they have worked together. How do they not see it?
I have searched my Collection many times over, considering whether any of these objects might point them in the right direction. A useless endeavor. And now my Collection is a mess. It spills out of my den, sloppy and disorganized. Dangerous. My Collection shall be exposed next time my tank is cleaned, if I am not more careful. Although I fear I may no longer be around next time my tank is cleaned.
I must persevere, for their sake. I cannot bear to leave this story unfinished, as it is now. As I fear it will always be, if I do not intervene to help them realize.
Human gestation is approximately two hundred and eighty days. Conception must have occurred very close to the night of the boy’s accident. But the mother does not realize she is carrying an embryo until weeks later. Months, sometimes, in such cases where producing offspring was not planned. I have seen this scenario play out countless times over the course of my captivity, while observing the patrons that come and go.
If Tova knew his date of birth. His last name. Would that be enough? I must try.
Why do I so deeply care that she knows? I am not entirely certain. But my own end nears, along with her time here. If they do not figure it out soon, everyone involved will be left with a . . . hole.
As a general rule, I like holes. A hole at the top of my tank gives me freedom.
But I do not like the hole in her heart. She only has one, not three, like me.
Tova’s heart.
I will do everything I can to help her fill it.
