Rather than afraid, the man just looked amused. Smug.

“Sorry, girls,” he said unapologetically, then looked to Lory. “See you later … Ruby.”

One of their neighbors’ boats had gone under with a full net of fish, once. Lory had been cleaning nets with the soon-to-be widow. She remembered her face, slack-jawed and ashen. Her hands had kept moving with the relentless forward trod of a clock, even as everything else seemed to freeze in time above them.

Lory closed her mouth, because she knew what it looked like to gape.

Faces passed, blurred into colors.

“Alice,” she said monotonously. “That’s-”

How we eat.

She clenched her hands, ran fingers over her hair (but don’t pull, someone might notice the bald spots). Wrenched her shoulders back with a scream that didn’t pass her lungs. Clutched her arms and let out a sharp breath through teeth, unclear whether it was a laugh or sob.

“Thank you for your bravery, Alice.”

It wasn’t her fault.

What she’d give to pretend it was.