Fiction | Sunrise Scales

That one (fantastical) fish in the sea.

© mateusmiliano10

My former mate tried to twist out of my net. I don’t think he recognized me. Must have been my hairy legs.

“Let go! Let go!”

“Hmmm, nope.” I squatted in the shallows where he’d swam into my trap. He slapped his fish tail and man arms around. Even in his panic, his movements were achingly graceful. Was I close to that beautiful in my old form?

Sunrise reflected off of his coppery scales by the time he settled. His naked chest heaved. He stared at the navy-blue surface of the ocean, away from the shore at my back.

“Hey,” I called.

He twisted toward me. His glare widened to surprise.

“I’ve wanted to catch up. Miss me much?”


Originally published in P.S. I Love You.