Evan woke to the sound of gulls arguing. His mouth tasted like seawater. The sky above him was a blinding sheet of white, and for one surreal moment, he thought he was in the office—until a crab scuttled over his wrist and pinched him. He sat up fast. The world tilted. The sand beneath him shimmered with salt crystals, and his legs—his legs felt wrong. Heavy. Fused. Cold.
He looked down. “Oh no. Oh no no no.” Where his khakis should’ve been was a long, iridescent tail. Not a costume. Not neoprene. Scales—real ones—glittered blue and green in the sunlight, flexing as if amused by his horror. He slapped it. It twitched back. “Ow!” He flopped backward, laughing and swearing at once. “Okay. Dream. Weird post-traumatic branding dream.”
He tried to crawl, dragging himself across the sand, leaving a shimmering trail like a giant sardine slug. The movement made the tail flash brighter, and far down the beach someone shouted, “Oh my GOD! It’s her!” A group of tourists sprinted closer, phones raised.“It’s the AquaLure mermaid!” one squealed. “They’re filming the new ad!”
“I’m not—” Evan started, then stopped. His voice was… different. Higher. Soft and musical, like it had been auto-tuned by Poseidon. He froze. Blinked. Patted his face. Smooth skin. Delicate jaw. Cheekbones sharp enough to slice sushi. Long hair, wet and gold, stuck to his shoulders. He looked down again. He—no, she—was topless, large perfect breasts buoyant on his chest. “Oh come on,” he groaned, his voice a melodic sigh as he leaned his head back and stared directly into the heavens..
The tourists were still filming. “Wave to the camera!” one yelled. Evan tried to cover himself with his hands and tail at once, which only made him look more like a calendar poster. Someone shouted, “She’s shy! So authentic!”
Panicking, he twisted toward the water— and with a sudden shimmer, his tail split, the scales rippling away like dissolving glitter. Legs. Real human legs. “What the—” He stood, immediately tripped, and landed face-first in the sand.
The crowd gasped, then applauded. “Method acting!” someone cheered.
Evan scrambled upright and bolted for the dunes, not stopping until the beach noise faded and only the crash of waves remained. He sank down beside a rock pool, trembling. His reflection stared back: luminous eyes, sunlit hair, an impossible face he’d seen on billboards for years. “The AquaLure mermaid,” he whispered. “I made you.” The reflection smiled back faintly, as though the sea itself was in on the joke. A low hum echoed through the water, a whispering sound that might have been waves—or laughter. Evan stared at the horizon, half-terrified, half-thrilled, and muttered, “Miranda’s gonna love this.”
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