Story
A lovelorn man breathes in the perfume distilled from Octopourri's ink and plummets into a trance. There comes the slow slide of a soft tentacle into his open palm, then comes the possessive coil of another around his waist, as if to claim him. Tears pool in his eyes. He hungers both to need and to be needed. Fear, desire, and insecurity all dissolve into the perfume's heavy fragrance. That day, as the world tears itself apart under a weeping sky, his own universe seems to endure another sundering. And yet he lives. He lives on...
