“rpf is fine” – tom hanks

The human says something. Max edges back. It sits up, grimacing, clutching its healing arm to its chest and placing its other hand over its fast-beating heart. It says something again, the same thing, and Max concentrates, commits the shapes of the sounds to memory, though he does not know what they mean: ‘Thank you. Thank you.’ Then the human says something else. It sounds, to Max, like ‘Dan-yul’. It says it again, patting its chest. ‘Dan-yul. Dan-yul.’ When the meaning becomes clear, Max wants to maybe laugh. He wants to cry again. He wants to retreat into the water, to before this day ever happened, to a time past when all his world contained was his clearing, his stream, his sweet-smelling spring flowers. There have not been humans here for as long as Max has been coming. Now one is telling Max its name.