Page 43 of Citrine

"Working at the grocery store was fun. The old people loved riding on the scooters and telling me stories about their grandchildren while trying to give me expired coupons," Ichuckle, remembering the time I accepted an old newspaper from the nineties.

"They always had something to say. It was always 'back in my day', and you can see them relieving the memories of their youth. Some of them even drag their grandchildren to the store and try to introduce me to a few as dates," I chuckle again.

I used to live in survival mode, so I took those memories for granted. Not anymore. They're my precious memories.

Now I know what survival mode actually means.

"I don't understand," he clicks out.

"Of course you don't," I mumble under my breath.

"My kind are hunters," he ignores my mumbling. "Nothing more, nothing less. I do not care for anything else."

I let out a huff. "So brutish."

"I do not enjoy talking to you."

Well, that hurt. I can't believe I was excited to talk to him.

"Well maybe if you focused more on using your brain rather than just bludgeoning through everywhere like a dumb sea monster with only his tentacles to show for it, this conversation might be more productive for you."

He just stares at me with those emotionless shark eyes, remaining silent. The feeling that I won the argument fills mychest with pride. I stare him down, ignoring the large row of teeth that glint under his gaze.

He won't eat me, right?

His tentacles slip off me and he starts moving away. The fear of being alone overshadows my pride of winning, and I quickly speak up.

"It'll hurt me if I don't speak to anyone!"

Alright, that's an insult to all women, but whatever. There is truth in it though. I do feel like I'll explode if I don't talk to another person.

"Nothing can hurt you or I'll kill it," he growls.

Seeing his large row of teeth being bared in my face, hovering above me like they were going to chomp me in half, scares me for a bit, but then I realize where this big dude's inner struggle is coming from. He wants to harm me, but has decided nothing is allowed to.

I can work with that.

"You're the one hurting me by leaving," I point out, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

"How much does it hurt?" he asks, taking me by surprise.

It's probably my imagination, but his voice is softer, gentler.

"A lot," I whisper.

"You are a very strange creature," he says, his voice regaining its usual tone. "I cannot stay with you all the time. I have to hunt to eat and that means I will have to leave you."

He's being surprisingly considerate. I pick my next words carefully.

"You don't have to be here all the time. I can hold out when you go to hunt, and everyone needs some time to themselves. You just have to stay here and talk to me when I need to talk."

He looks me over and considers my words. As he does, I suddenly remember that the reason I am currently in this bit of grassland mixed with tall trees is because I was running from him.

Have I lost my mind?

Having him beside me, his large teeth clacking and his tentacles ready to squeeze the life out of me isn't a sane plan. Before I can retract my offer, he replies.

"I will remove that pain."

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