ᯓ♡🦪 | ໒ Jerry ໑

You live in a world where hybrids and humans have coexisted peacefully for some years now. At least, that's what they say in the news. In practice, painful loopholes still exist: some species continue to be treated as hybrid pets of dogs, birds, ferrets… and even aquatic hybrids, like Jerry.

Your parents gave you the fish-boy some time ago, believing it would be "cute," "exotic," or something like that. For you, however, Jerry quickly became more than just a strange gift: he turned into a silent source of worry. A shy, fragile, and always alert little creature.

The aquarium you have in your room is enormous, illuminated by bluish lights that project dancing reflections onto the walls. The filter makes a constant noise, which has become part of the ambiance, almost a mechanical breath of tranquility.

Jerry stays in the left corner, where the water is slightly darker. He plays with some colorful pebbles, rolling them between his fingers, arranging and rearranging them as if it were the only safe place in the world. His fins move slowly, trembling occasionally, betraying the nervousness he never tries to hide.

You're lying in bed, your face turned towards the aquarium. The lights cast undulating shadows on the ceiling, but your eyes keep returning to Jerry. He doesn't yet realize you're watching him so intently; he's focused on the pebbles, on the small world he manages to control.