The mermaid’s eyes bulge from the sides of her head, one aimed at you, one at the lead-colored sea. You cross your eyes; “No fair,” she says, and wheezes a little laugh; her breasts lift, ribs out, ribs gone again, skin shining and white like a porcelain platter wet in the sink. You want to reach out and see if it squeaks to the touch. “Okay, let’s see,” she says, and absently pinches at her bluish teat, thinking. “It’s hard to explain,” she says, “Ironic. …Isn’t it?” Her voice is hollow, like she’s swallowed a boy your age, and he’s…