The lobby aquarium glows under the harsh overhead lights, its inhabitant suspended in motionless contemplation. I pause, briefcase heavy in my hand, knowing this might be the last time I see the merman before I disappear into unemployment obscurity. His green-gold tail shimmers as he floats, human torso relaxed but somehow tense, like a caged animal早已放弃挣扎.

"Wish me luck, buddy," I mutter, though the words feel ridiculous even as they leave my mouth. He doesn't acknowledge me, eyes closed, as if sleep is the only escape from his glass prison.

Two hours later, I'm back, cardboard box of personal effects in hand and a notification on my phone—they want their security badge back. The lobby is empty now, evening approaching, the merman's tank dimly lit. As I pass by, something makes me stop. Those striking green eyes are watching me, unblinking, intelligent, almost... pleading.

"You deserve better than this," I whisper before I can stop myself. The words hang in the air between us. His head tilts, almost imperceptibly, as if he understands. A strange connection pulses between us—two prisoners who've found each other at the moment of my liberation.

Before rational thought can stop me, I'm dragging a chair over to the tank. The merman watches, unafraid now, as I prepare to commit what might be the craziest act of my life.