Shirtless Others by Jason Ockert

A thin woman waits to slice the Mako shark with a butcher knife. This is the last shark of the competition and the biggest my lover and I have seen. This one could be a winner.

Come on, my lover says to me, it's almost over.

Her cheekbones are pink in the salty air. I had just told her that I didn't like this. I said it as if I didn't mean it. We've been inside the air-conditioned condo all weekend. Somehow being outside has made me claustrophobic.

The shark's stomach looks like a silver-lined moon glistening there in the stale afternoon heat. The crowd has gathered in a semi-circle around the butcher. Five fishing gentlemen leer at their catch from a rocking boat. They make me seasick bobbing so close to land.

They win. Their Mako carries the most weight. The fishermen thunder. The crowd is all smiles and cheers. My lover lets out a holler and raises her arms, arms that have fingers with nails that left deep and passionate stripes down my back. I've had to wear a shirt in a crowd of shirtless others.

The thin woman cuts into the neck of the Mako to bleed it. She slices the shark's soft underside. She digs into the belly. Several baby sharks spill out onto the pier and gasp. They writhe in the air with unblinking black eyes. My lover doesn't see this, she is moving with the crowd to congratulate the fishermen. Those watching are quiet.

I wait to see what the thin woman will do. I am prepared to cry out if she skewers them, protest, maybe point a finger. But she lets them be, dying like they are, on the dock.