Sirens. [His face looks more tired than his body seems. He drops to a knee by her when he is away from the water’s edge, breathing heavy.] They took Jon.

[He looks up.] Others too, if you’re here. I went after them. [A FOOL. One arm lifts for him to inspect, his left.

He pulls the sleeve back. Across the top near the elbow, a long and thin slice has been made, but the cut doesn’t look jagged. The wet sleeve is bloody, and his brows furrow.] Have you seen Jon?

A boy about my age. Black hair, blue eyes.