Was she staring at him?
he hastily pulled on his jacket.
He could feel the skin
on his arms shrink from the fabric.
I have no other choice,
he whispered, trying to reason.
She may be watching.
She may tell others.
They would crowd around,
mock and gesture,
and then I?
I would be nailed to the ground.
His skin crawled and stretched,
still seeking a way out of its enclosure.
He shrank deeper into his chair,
glancing over his shoulder,
trying to find a way out of there.
She was now walking
towards him fast-paced.
His shoulders slumped,
loathing his difference.
“Remove your jacket,” she insisted.
Shrugging it off, he conceded.
The blue scales on his skin
twitched and glistened.
He couldn’t meet her gaze,
and steeled himself
for the laughs and the scrutiny.
It’s okay, she gently said.
He looked up and caught his breath.
One eye was yellow; the other red.