fish got fins
they use them to swim
they live under water
and get eaten by otters
fish don’t have hair
they don’t live in the air

(This has been a poem I found in the notebook I used in art class in grades eight and nine.)

October drove, Adam gave directions. He was leading her to a neighbourhood nearly deserted since the economic downturn, but he seemed trustworthy. If she needed it, she was armed.

“You read my site?”

“A friend showed it to me only recently,” he said. “It is quite interesting. A database of the fantastic.”

“And you’ve an interest in investigating supernatural events?”

“I enjoy investigating in general. I have since childhood. But I may have a more nuanced opinion on what constitutes a ‘supernatural’ event than you.”

Glancing in the side mirror, October saw the cloud of bees still following them.

“Right.”