a cure for the common block

Tempus Fugit

Luke winced and peeled away the layer of dermis from his sunburned arm, revealing what seemed to be another layer of dry, translucent skin; he pinched and picked at it, but it wasn’t coming up. Upon further examination, there appeared to be a birthmark he never had; then he noticed another patch on the back of his leg, which hadn’t been burned. Within a week, he had completely molted and looked at a stranger in the mirror; new eyes, new smile, new everything, and for the next century-or-so Luke lived as a nomad, never staying in one place too long or making a big impression, moving as each new identity began to emerge. He never again knew pain, or regret, or shame, but he never knew love, or friendship, or happiness; he eventually did die, alone, no one ever having known his secret.

#ShortShortStories #TempusFugit


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