"Kill it!?!" I exclaim, scampering to my feet, almost tripping as I get up, making sure to get at least five feet between me and her. She looks surprised by my sudden outburst.

"Whatcha so shocked for?" She asks, slightly amused, "It's not like those movies dude. Well, most of the movies. I'm sure you've heard the stories, about the sirens that lure sailors to their deaths. They're a lot more like that. They hunger for human flesh and drown their victims."

"What in the fuck would make you think that!?!" I demand, offended and afraid, now standing tall in defense of my race.

"You don't think so?" She asks, confused, looking at me with a curious expression, tilting her head to the side allowing hair to fall to one side with it in such a cute away I almost forget she wants to kill me. Almost. "They're predators like sharks or killer whales. Dangerous creatures."

"What makes you think they're not intelligent enough to farm seaweed or fish?" I inquire, "Assuming they are real."

"All these humans as prey and you tell me they wouldn't adapt to hunt?" She chuckles, "Man you're adorably inoccent."

"I'm not adorable!" I respond defensively, offended by the statement. "I'm not some cute little kid, I'm a normal person! Just because I have-"

I cut myself off and cover my mouth.

"Hey dude chill!" She jokes, "It's not like you're a Merman. What's got you so worked up?"

"I hate being called cute," I sigh, "Everyone sees me as cute and less than them because..."

I trail off once again, looking away.

"Because of what?" Caroline inquires.

"You won't see me any differently?" I ask, knowing even if she says yes it's not true. It never is.

"Why would I?" She asks, "Worst case sinerio you're like, dying."

"I have autism," I explain.

She looks at me silently for a moment, still sitting as I feel my legs begin to strain somewhat, the start of that tired feeling you get before the burn of exercise, so I to sit, to put less strain on my legs, looking out at the water, silently with her as I lift a flat rock from the beach and toss it, skipping only once. After that there's about a minute of dead silence.

I decide to break the silence, with a cold, hard, and tragic truth, "Basically, I was born wrong."

She doesn't reply for a moment, looking at her fingers, as if trying to think of what to say before asking, her voice softer, similar to the sand we sit on, "Were you?"

"It's always," I explain, "At least to most, 'oh he's just autistic, disregard him.' I have one good friend who doesn't judge me named Jim. Everyone else would judge if they knew."

"Why is this such a big deal?" She asks.

"Because I can't go to therapy for it," I explain, "I can't get help for it. I am simply, fundamentally, wrong. It is called a mental illness Caroline."

"How does it manifest for you?" Caroline asks, now turning to face me, looking into my brown eyes with her blue eyes.

"I forget names," I explain, "Hell, I'll remember everything about you come tomorrow, expect your name. I also write tales. I have difficulty expressing myself so I tell stories."

"Stories like what?" She asks.

I open my notebook and read from it, "There was once a young Merman with a love for the culture of the human world. One day he fell for a human girl, only to have his hopes dashed, like every other crush he has ever had. The Merman was cursed to be alone. This was his punishment for being born wrong."

"Oh God that is just," she trails off, "I mean just-"

"Well that's how things tend to go," I sigh, "Twenty years old, and haven't even had my first kiss yet."

"Well you are cute," she mutters to herself as if thinking, trailing off to think internally.

I decide to let her think, fidgeting with a seashell, pink and small, I find in the sand, by legs slowly beginning to reach that point of exhaustion where I begin to sweat.

After a while she speaks, with a question that catches me off guard. "Well, I'm single, you're cute, why not right now?"

"I hardly know you first of all," I explain, "Second of all, isn't that kinda rushing into things?"

"Dude it's a kiss," she chuckles, "I mean you're a tourist, so it's unlikely we'll ever see each other again anyways. What's the big deal?"

I shrug and... well shrug again. She has a point. I mean, what is the big deal?

"Hey no pressure if you don't wanna," she explains, "I just... I dunno. It's kinda a romantic scene isn't it? Lifeguard saves a cute guy, at night, on the beach, alone together. So ya wanna or nah?"

"There was a young man," I explain, "Who was saved by a cute girl. He had an opportunity that night..." I take her hand and begin to lean in, "that he wasn't gonna pass up..."