Know

9 - Princess Ariel

"If you can't love babe, then you can't hurt" - Augustana

• • • • •

The journey to the coast of England is supposed to be a long one; the subway itinerary estimates about an hour and a half. However, Harry makes the ride feel much shorter, involving me in his people-watching games.

"I've got the perfect story for this one," he eagerly whispers, glancing back at a couple in their thirties sitting four rows behind us. "They met online a few years back and their first date was something disgustingly cliche. Oh! Like a coffee shop. Then he found out that she collects Cabbage Patch Kids, I mean loads of them. Every room in her flat has at least twenty shelves of these chubby dolls. Even the kitchen! He was properly creeped out so he wanted to dump her, but they've already moved in and she pays most of the utility bills... and she's got a nice bum. And now they're on their way to a vintage toy shop to look for more dolls to add to her collection."

I bite my lips together, trying to suppress my laughter. "Jesus, Harry," I whisper. "How did you come up with all that from the most ordinary-looking couple in the world?"

"Imagination is all it takes. Here, you try." He nods in the direction of a man engrossed in a newspaper sitting with a young boy and girl, who are silently reading the signs and ads on the wall.

"It looks like a dad and his kids," I say with a shrug.

"No, no, no. You're too logical," he says. "Try something like... the man found these kids unattended at a grocery store and lured them in by saying he has free puppies at his home. But secretly, he's kidnapping these kids and holding them for ransom."

I give him a horrified look. "I like the dad and kids one much better," I say.

He rests his cheek on his palm and looks at me like I'm a terminal cancer patient. "The point is not to tell a true story," he says. "It's to tell a wild one."

The train stops and in walks a group of five college-aged girls and one guy. "They're all yours," Harry says with a dimpled, encouraging smile.

I give it a go, using his "imagination" advice.

"So," I begin as a plot grows in my brain. "The boy has a crush on one of the girls but she says she just wants to be friends. He thinks he's being friendzoned when in reality, she's a time-traveller from the year 2075 and assassinates all the US presidents who have ever been assassinated and then frames random people for the crime. She's also immortal because she was bit by a radioactive snail when she was a baby so her real age is something in the 400s. Anyways, she needs to stay friends with him because he's moving to the US soon and he's going to have a son, who, in 50 or so years, will become the next president she has to assassinate."

Harry stares at me, his mouth slightly ajar and his eyes sparkling with a new kind of adoration. A few seconds pass before he says anything.

"Good lord, what a fucking story," he commends.

I flash him a satisfied smirk and take a small bow.

When I scan around, I realize that we've come up with ridiculous backgrounds for everyone in our car. There's nobody left and we're both quiet again, listening to the train rumble on the tracks.

"Can snails even bite?" Harry asks after a while.

I shrug and we both bend over in laughter. Almost every passenger turns their head and stares at us, judging us or simply baffled by us. I couldn't care less either way. Harry looks at me through squinted eyes, still laughing uncontrollably, and I can tell he doesn't either.

When we get to the beach, Harry's prediction turns out true. There is absolutely no sign of anyone on the long, sandy shore. I see his point in wanting to come here on a day like this. It's a completely different scenery when it's not littered with screeching kids or hairy, overweight men.