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Something dark moves between the reeds.

I stop in the middle of the path to watch a ridged head floating near the bank, close enough for me to see a pale scar crossing its snout.

“Theo,” I say quietly, “that alligator is very close to your house.”

He follows my gaze. “That’s the Deacon.”

“The alligator has a title?”

Ezra steps beside me. “He watches the cemetery.”

“He sits in the water,” Theo says.

The gator turns his head away from us and faces the rows of graves.

I watch him for another second. “Those may not be different jobs.”

Theo looks at me. “He’s wild. Don’t go near him.”

“I wasn’t planning an introduction.”

The Deacon sinks beneath the channel. Only a widening ripple remains between the reeds.

With each step we take toward the water, Ezra becomes clearer. His shirt turns fully opaque. Color warms his cheeks. Even the veins along his hands sharpen beneath his skin.

I stop in the middle of the path. “Oh, that is fascinating.”

Theo looks over his shoulder.

“Sorry. Keep walking. I can observe while moving.”

Ezra smiles. “You say that like there’s any chance you will stop.”

“There is not.” I hurry to catch up and reach toward the outer pocket of the bag Theo is carrying. Before I can ask, he pulls out my notebook and hands it over.

The gesture makes me smile. “Thank you.”

His fingers brush mine when I take it. Peppermint brightens around us. Theo’s purr roughens.

I flip to a clean page as we climb the porch steps. “Distance from moving water appears to correlate with opacity. Do you feel stronger too, or only more visible?”

“Stronger,” Ezra says. “Most days.”

“Most?”

“Some days the water keeps me solid and leaves me exhausted. Some days I disappear in the kitchen while standing beside the sink.”

“While it’s running?”

“Yes.”

“Temperature?” I ask.

“Cold helps.”

“Have you tracked the weather? Rainfall? Seasonal flow?”

Ezra looks delighted. “You’ve been here five minutes and already want a spreadsheet.”