Long days meant more time on land, pretending to be a man. I lived for the hours of darkness, when I would return to the sea and take my native form, only to return again at sunrise. I’d wait impatiently for the winter months, but in truth, I didn’t like those much either. I fooled myself that I was happier in the water, but I’d just become a master at lying to myself. Sitting on my usual piece of driftwood, I surveyed the quiet stretch of coastline. A pair of joggers way in the distance. A lone dog walker in the opposite direction. And me. Even the seagulls gave me a wide berth. Even though I looked like a normal human, they could sense that I was different, and whether they stayed away out of fear or respect didn’t matter. I closed my eyes against the bright sunlight, but the rays continued to kiss my pale skin. I wouldn’t burn, or tan, or freckle. I’d never wrinkle or age, and I could never die. My life would continue, alone, for eternity. Immortality sucks. A muffled woof and a splash dragged me from my pity party and I opened my eyes to glare at the dog walker.
