Jeremiah sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

  “Thanks…” he said, turning to Mr. Roger with a tired smile.

  “No problem, Jerry. They mean well, but they are a handful. What’d they do this time?” Roger asked, laughter in his voice.

  “They ambushed me — in my own apartment,” Jeremiah said.

  Roger’s brows shot up. “How’d they manage that?”

  Jeremiah shook his head, defeated. “Crawled in through the window… apparently.”

  Roger’s laughter rolled down the hall, rich and booming.

  “I’ll be honest… I’m not surprised at all if it’s those three,” Mr. Roger rumbled, a deep chuckle rolling in his chest. “Anyway, I was serious when I said I wanted to catch you.”

  Jeremiah lifted an eyebrow, wary but curious. “Really? Is there something I can help you with?” Despite his intimidating size, Mr. Roger had been a good neighbor since Jeremiah moved in. There was a respectful warmth in the man’s manner, and even the Grim kids treated him with deference, as if he were some kind of honorary grandfather.

  Over the past two weeks, Jeremiah hadn’t spoken with Roger much, but each brief encounter left him feeling a little more grounded. Roger just seemed to radiate calm; his presence had a way of smoothing out the edges of a bad day.

  Roger’s grin grew even wider, lighting up his whole face. “I hope so! But first, I heard from a little bird that your birthday was a few days ago. Is that right?”

  Jeremiah stiffened, caught off guard. That was right… It was September 19th already. His birthday had been last Saturday, the 17th.

  A hollow cold settled in his chest. He’d let it slip by without a second thought. That was never how it worked in the Bridge family. Birthdays were a big event, even when it was just him and Sarah. The whole family would take the day off and spend it together, a tradition that survived even after his parents passed away.

  Now, it felt different. He hadn’t forgotten, exactly. He just… hadn’t let himself think about it. His gaze dropped, and his fingers unconsciously sought out the necklace hidden beneath his shirt, the last gift Sarah ever gave him.

  Suddenly, a massive hand landed gently on his shoulder, making him nearly jump. He glanced up and found Roger’s warm, understanding smile.

  “No need for words, boy. I get it,” Roger said, giving his shoulder another reassuring pat. “Still, it’s not right to let another year go by without some kind of celebration. Bad Mojo, that! So, I got you a little gift.”

  Jeremiah took a step back, hands raised, head shaking. “Oh, that’s really not necessary, Mr. Roger. I couldn’t possibly—”

  “Nonsense!” Roger interrupted, his laugh echoing down the hall. “Everyone deserves a birthday present! Truth be told, you’d actually be helping me out if you accept it.”

  Jeremiah still tried to refuse, but Roger was relentless. “Now, now. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

  Jeremiah stared up at the man in silence as the large black man grinned down at him.

  Before it started to get awkward, Jeremiah sighed and gave in.

  He closed his eyes and held out his hands as he was told.

  “Good! Good!” Roger boomed. “Here we go.”

  A heavy weight suddenly landed in Jeremiah’s palms, nearly dragging his arms down with its heft. He almost fumbled it, startled by the shifting mass. It felt round and perfectly smooth, glassy but dense. Almost like a bowling ball, but somehow fluid in its weight, as if he were holding a bowl filled with water.

  Before he could piece it together, Roger said brightly, “Okay! You can open your eyes now!”

  Jeremiah blinked his eyes open and stared in bewilderment at what he was holding.

  A large… fishbowl?

  Jeremiah stared down at the glass object in his hands, brow furrowed in confusion.

  It was, unmistakably, a fishbowl. Water sloshed gently inside, glinting in the hallway light. At the bottom, a tiny plastic castle nestled beside a hunk of bright orange brain coral. Several strands of grape kelp swayed lazily, stirred by the movement of the water. The whole thing looked like it belonged on the nightstand of a child’s bedroom on TV. All it needed was a goldfish, looping slow circles and blowing lazy bubbles.

  He blinked, then looked up at Roger with open skepticism. The big man only grinned, as if he’d been waiting for this reaction. Before Jeremiah could speak, Roger leaned over and tapped the side of the bowl with one broad, calloused finger.

  “Don’t be shy, Billy! Come out and say hello!” Roger called, cheerful as ever.

  Jeremiah’s frown deepened. He turned back just in time to catch movement. A tiny tentacle curling out of the plastic castle’s archway. Then another… and another… until, at last, a miniature black octopus speckled with tiny white-blue spots emerged. No bigger than his palm, the little creature peered up at Jeremiah with bright, curious eyes.

  Jeremiah’s jaw dropped. He stared down at the tiny octopus, caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. His gaze darted back to Roger, who only grinned wider.

  “Mr. Roger, I couldn’t possibly… I mean, why would—” Jeremiah stammered, words tumbling out half-formed.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Roger laughed, the sound booming in the narrow hallway, and gave Jeremiah’s shoulder a hearty slap. “Deep breaths, boy!”

  Almost reflexively, Jeremiah sucked in a steadying breath. Roger’s expression softened as Jeremiah managed to calm himself.

  “Listen, Jeremiah,” Roger said, his tone growing unexpectedly firm. “I wasn’t exaggerating when I said you’d be doing me a favor. I made a promise to a dear friend that I’d find this little fellow a good home.”

  Jeremiah shook his head, still flustered. “But why me? There’s no way I can take care of something like this! You barely know me. Besides, does Merry even allow pets in the building?” His voice climbed a little higher than he intended.

  Roger’s wide grin returned. He waved the concern away. “No worries there. I already cleared it with Merry. And Billy here is a clever lad. He won’t give you much trouble. Just change his water once a week and toss him a shrimp or two in the morning. What he really needs is someone who’ll care for him. Someone who’ll raise him right. I can’t think of anyone better than you.”

  Jeremiah drew breath, ready to argue again. This was impossible/ There was no way he could care for such a creature. Sure, he loved animals; why else would he have devoted himself to veterinary medicine? He’d rescued enough stray cats and dogs that Sarah eventually built a small animal shelter just to house them.

  That shelter had passed on to others as his life grew busier, but Jeremiah still made time to visit. Even so, his experience told him octopuses were nothing like goldfish. They needed special tanks, filters, and careful attention.

  He looked down at the octopus, still awed and overwhelmed, knowing exactly how much this would entail.

  Before Jeremiah could protest again, he jerked in surprise as something cool and slick brushed his hand. He glanced down, startled, to find that Billy had crawled partway up the side of the bowl, a tiny tentacle coiling gently around his finger.

  A strange sensation blossomed in Jeremiah’s chest, like something squeezing his heart, but not in a painful way. He swallowed hard, face tightening as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

  Billy tilted his head, watching Jeremiah with bright, intelligent eyes before letting go and dropping back into the water with a soft plop.

  “Don’t overthink it,” Roger said, his tone gentle. “Billy’s a smart little guy. He’ll be fine in that bowl for a few days. I’ve already ordered the special equipment you’ll need. Consider it part of your present.”

  Jeremiah lingered in silence, staring down at the fishbowl. Finally, he nodded, voice soft and uneven. “Thank you…”

  Roger’s grin widened into a warm, fatherly smile. “No, thank you, Jerry. My friend will be thrilled to know this little one found such a good home. I’ve put some food in your apartment, along with a special additive for the water. It’ll keep Billy healthy until the rest of his setup gets here. Just sprinkle a bit in before bed.”

  Jeremiah didn’t look up, but nodded again, a bit more firmly this time.

  Roger let out a deep laugh and turned away, waving over his shoulder. “Good luck, Jerry. Take care of Billy.”

  As Roger strode back toward his apartment, Jeremiah could have sworn he saw Billy return the man’s wave.

  —————————————————————

  Jeremiah set the fishbowl gently on his bedside table. The little nook he used as his sleeping area was cloaked in shadows at this hour—his apartment’s single window let in scant daylight, and the tall, half-empty buildings outside blocked what little sun reached the street.

  Billy didn’t seem to mind the gloom. Most octopuses preferred the comfort of darkness, and many were naturally nocturnal. The tiny cephalopod had retreated into his castle, but Jeremiah could still see a faint blue glow radiating from the creature’s spots in the dimness. Bioluminescence was common among octopi, but Jeremiah had never read about a species with markings quite so striking.

  It was like gazing at a piece of the night sky. Billy’s blue-white dots would shrink and expand in slow, rhythmic patterns, creating the illusion of twinkling stars.

  Curiosity gnawing at him, Jeremiah spent nearly an hour hunched over his laptop, searching for any clue about Billy’s species. He found nothing concrete. But then, that wasn’t surprising. The Cosmic Wheel connected Nexus to hundreds of other worlds, each with its own tangled web of life. Nexus alone was home to more creatures than anyone could count — let alone the rare, exotic beasts brought in from beyond.

  Still, most creatures could be sorted into broad categories.

  There were only so many ways for a bird to evolve, after all, Jeremiah mused.

  He looked back at the tiny octopus, who was now peeking from behind the plastic castle. “Mr. Roger wouldn’t have given you to an amateur if you were really that different from other octopi, right?” he asked.

  As if understanding, Billy slid out of his hideaway and waved his tentacles, putting on a tiny, energetic display.

  Jeremiah smirked at the performance. “I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you, little guy?”

  He snapped his laptop shut, stood up, and headed for the kitchen.

  Sure enough, waiting for him on the counter was a hefty bag of mixed, frozen shrimp. Next to it sat a palm-sized bag of blue sand and a folded note in a bold, looping script. Jeremiah picked up the note and read:

  Hey, Jerry! I hope Billy isn’t causing too much trouble already. Don’t be afraid to scold him — he’s got a mischievous streak.

  Jeremiah paused, glancing back at the fishbowl. Billy returned his look with wide, innocent eyes, head tilted just so, putting on his most blameless face.

  Jeremiah shook his head, unable to suppress a chuckle, and turned back to the note.

  Keep the shrimp frozen; they’ll last a good while. Give Billy one every other day for now, and he’ll be fine. Once he starts growing — and he will, trust me — you can feed him more often. Try to mix up which ones you give him. He’ll beg for the green ones with the saddest puppy-dog eyes, but don’t let him fool you! A growing lad needs variety to stay strong!

  Jeremiah unzipped the bag to reveal a rainbow assortment of shrimp and tiny crustaceans, every color he could imagine.

  As for the sand, just add a teaspoon to his bowl every night, and it’ll work its magic. Three teaspoons when you change his water. Easy-peasy. That’s really all there is to taking care of Billy, for now. The rest of Billy’s supplies should arrive in a few days, as I mentioned. Just let me know when they come in, and I’ll help set everything up. Nothing too complicated. Thanks again for taking Billy, my friend. May you both be a Guiding Star to each other as you sail life’s ocean. — Your friend, Mr. Roger.

  Jeremiah set the note down and picked up the pouch of sand, curiosity piqued. He pulled it open and was met by a wave of salty, briny scent. The sharp tang of open water, not dry sand. Some sort of medical salt, maybe, he guessed, sniffing again.

  He rummaged in his drawer for a measuring spoon, finally fishing out the right size. He poured a rounded teaspoon of the sparkling blue salt into his palm, then reached into the freezer bag for a fat, green-shelled shrimp.

  Turning back to the fishbowl, he found Billy wide awake, tentacles flicking in anticipation, eyes glued to the treat in Jeremiah’s hand. Jeremiah grinned at the little show, holding the shrimp above the bowl. Billy’s tiny arms quivered, practically vibrating with excitement.

  With a gentle flick, Jeremiah dropped the shrimp into the water. Billy shot upward, moving with a speed and precision that caught Jeremiah off guard. The little octopus snatched the shrimp mid-sink, coiling around it and drifting downward, already tearing into the meal with his tiny beak.

  Jeremiah couldn’t help but laugh. A bright, genuine sound that bubbled up before he realized it, the first in months. Still smiling, he added the measured salt to the water. The blue granules spread and dissolved almost instantly, vanishing before they reached the bottom.

  As the last flecks disappeared, Jeremiah caught a glimmer in the bowl’s depths. Just for a moment, the water sparkled faintly, a subtle shimmer that flickered in the low light. He blinked, but the effect was gone, just quick enough that he questioned if it wasn’t a trick of the light. As he watched Billy contentedly gnawing his shrimp, Jeremiah felt, for the first time in a long while, a little lighter.