She is the water.

“Hello,” she breathes. “Welcome home.”

It seems they’ve been here before. The travelers gaze upon her tiny waves lapping up against the wooden dock at a protected distance. Sure, they could fall in her waters to a drowning death, souls lost forever in dark, bloody chaos, but they won’t. Not from where they are. Instead, she will say hello, again and again, until they become so hypnotized they can’t hear her anymore.

They feel calm yet cultivated on this patio. Maybe even a sense of pride, as if they have achieved something by coming to this establishment. The sea knows this. The sea has senses that reach people far and wide, embraces them and whisks them far from anything they’ve ever come to know.

The sea knows they will meet again. Maybe in a boat so vast it rivals a whale, the bow slicing through the waves in defiant rage. Maybe the travelers won’t need a boat after all. Maybe their hearts will walk them to the dock after a long lunch and a check they were able to pay. As they revel in their success, they decide to come closer and closer, until they are engulfed in the water’s chanting. The sea retaliates, enjoying their thrashing dance, and in time the sea becomes so entranced by the spirits she’s come across, so hypnotized she can’t hear them anymore.