In the tank, blue, lit like a forest at dawn was the white apparition arcing from depth into light then back into shadow.
His mate had died in captivity, causing stir on local news at the cruelty of caging such a large, intelligent creature as the beluga in a glass prison.
Where two had roamed for years he now swam alone. Like a bleached leaf he swirled in the blue vial, his skin smooth and white like fascia, the fissure of his blowhole like broken marble on a torso of Apollo.
On his head glistened scars from the Arctic. His eyes were black and depthless as a child's drawing of night. Drawn taut over his jaw, his lips made a clownish grin.
My daughter watched the great creature beyond the glass. She saw him rise and sink, turn away then come back. That he could not leave she understood
and wanting to leave, she reached for my hand, and I swam towards her apparition beyond the glass from depth into light.