Past Life

I think I may have been a mermaid who had traded her fins and tails for legs, and had totally forgotten about it.

For how else could I explain this insatiable lust for the sea; why, though my lungs protest, the underwater feels like home; and why, no matter how I shake it off, my body does not seem to run out of sand or salt?

My skin has gotten a million times darker now, and my bones are tired from all those weekend bus rides– how long must I keep this penance til my home claims me as her own? I have no idea, only that I must keep coming back. Only that I must keep swimming. Only that I must keep drinking saltwater until the sea remembers the taste of my skin.

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