Manama

Manama has the calmest eyes in all of Waterfall City, but their feet have never learned how to stay still. They tried, for a time. They took up a post mending nets near the great fish statue, believing the patient work and the sound of the rushing water would anchor them. They wanted to be like the pale stone temple, half on land and half in the current, perfectly balanced. But the constant roar of the falls never felt like a lullaby; it felt like a summons. It spoke of other shores, of where the water began and where it finally ended. The day they walked away, leaving a perfectly mended net behind, was the first day their grin felt honest. It is the expression of a river that has accepted it was never meant to be a lake.