In Public with a Morphling

Traveling to, and from, work, on a crowded train, for forty-five minutes each way,every day, is a drag. My boss firmly believes in the office-only policy, so working from home is out of the question. While I’m looking for a new job, I’ve found ways to make the current situation more tolerable by diving into podcasts and audiobooks, effectively tuning out my surroundings. However, a new distraction has emerged, transforming my daily commute into something I unexpectedly look forward to. I’ve dubbed him “The Stranger.”

We share the same route and, by some stroke of luck or perhaps intention on his part, we often find ourselves standing close by. His height is the first thing you notice - he’s so tall that he stoops slightly as he boards the train. Unlike some tall guys who are slender, his build is broad, claiming a presence that’s hard to ignore. From what I’ve seen, a chiseled jaw adorned with stubble and vivid blue eyes, he also falls squarely in the handsome category - though his preference for wearing a hood pulled low makes it hard to get a clear view.

I’m not one to approach a guy out of the blue, but there’s no harm in looking. And that’s exactly what I do. A few sideways glances, some unintentional eye contact - all perfectly innocent. It’s just the thing to make a Monday morning commute bearable.

Recently, I noticed that he doesn’t just passively receive my glances - he actively holds his gaze on me, lingering a bit longer each time. Our morning dance on the train has brought us incrementally closer. Today, I find myself directly in front of him.

As the train fills with more passengers, a sudden jostle pushes me against him, our bodies briefly connecting. An unexpected shiver courses through me, sharp and thrilling. Looking up, I’m met with his clearly handsome face under the hood. He offers me a small, empathetic smile, the kind that says, ‘well, these things happen,’ acknowledging our shared discomfort in this cramped space. It’s a silent exchange, typical of big city life. I mirror his gesture, wondering if perhaps I’ve read too much into his attention.

But as I steal another glance and look up, I find his eyes still fixed on me, his look intense, suggesting that there’s something more. In that moment, I try to decipher the meaning behind his stare, half-wondering if there’s something I should be worried about, like the possibility of him being a creep or worse. But the curiosity and the strange connection between us linger, compelling me to maintain eye contact, searching for answers in our silent language.

Without warning or outside cause, his appearance begins to change dramatically. His face undergoes a series of transformations - first adopting a grayish, scaly texture with yellow eyes, then shifting to a furry face with green eyes, followed by a red complexion with black eyes, before reverting to the prior human form. I watch, astonished, my jaw drops in disbelief. His eyes, now back to their human blue, are filled with fear. They dart towards me, then scan the crowded train to see if anyone else witnessed his metamorphosis. However, no one seems to notice. Their attention is downward, glued to their phones.

When his gaze meets mine, it’s laced with hesitation, a vulnerability that unexpectedly touches my heart. I realize what he is - one of the monsters appearing in our world over the last year. I’ve been curious about these creatures, and now I’m thrilled to be face-to-face with one. I’m at a loss for how to express my intentions, that I mean him no harm, that I won’t reveal his secret. Without thinking it through, I reach out and place my palm against his chest, hoping my touch conveys a message of peace and understanding.

His first reaction is to tense up, as if a human’s touch is completely foreign to him. But he doesn’t pull away. Instead, time seems to stand still. The noisy clamor of the train fades into the background. It’s just the two of us in a bubble of silent communication. Within a heartbeat, I sense him begin to unwind beneath my touch, the initial tension washing away as though my offer of peace is recognized and accepted.

The train lurches as it approaches the next station, breaking the spell. We retract at the same time, with an unspoken agreement that what happened to him, and between us, is our secret. The doors open. People begin to shuffle in and out. He leans closer, his presence enveloping me with a subtle hint of cinnamon. His voice is hushed as he utters, “Thank you.”

Before I can reply, he melts into the crowd. Disappearing with a skill that suggests he’s had practice moving unseen despite his size. I’m left standing with my hand still outstretched, touching air where he was. The rest of the ride is a blur, my mind racing with questions and the startling realization that I just met one of them. My Stranger is a monster.

When monsters started popping up, the world went into a full-blown frenzy. Other worlds? Real-life monsters? It was a lot to take in. But even with these earth-shaking revelations, my boss insisted we keep showing up to the office. Sure, there’s a slight chance you might accidentally wander through one of those mysterious doors, portals, that connect our world to who-knows-where, but no biggie, right? Maybe take a personal day off if that happens, or would you need a few years, or twenty, to get back to work?

But it wasn’t just our boss who wanted to keep things running as usual. Pretty soon, the whole world got back to its routine, with a few new twists. Now and then, someone runs into a monster. The dangerous ones are taken out quickly. The peaceful ones? Well, they usually end up in some government facility or in the hands of collectors and fighting rings. There are the lucky few who slip through the cracks. The Stranger is one of these elusive types, human enough to be hiding in plain sight. Now that I’m in on his secret, I wonder if he’ll disappear.

The next few days, he’s nowhere to be seen. I feel my mood dipping. It’s back to podcasts and audiobooks. On the fourth day, he reappears. I stay close by, and gradually, he moves closer until we’re standing near each other, our eyes meeting.

He tilts his head down slightly and whispers, “Aren’t you afraid?”

I shake my head, replying, “No. You’ve returned.”

“Yes. I was unsure, but…”

“But?” I prompt gently.

“But I can’t stay away from you,” he confesses, sparking a wave of excitement within me. Our eyes lock.

“Why?” I inquire.

He surveys me, his gaze lingering on my curves, then leans closer. “The way you look, your scent - it’s intoxicating,” he confesses in a hushed, fervent whisper that sends a shiver through me.

“I’ve heard that your kind prefers curves,” I tease.

He examines me once more, his eyes intense and shifting - human, to cat-like, then dark, and finally back to the clear blue. “I prefer you,” he asserts, his voice earnest and compelling.

There’s something captivating about the way he looks at me, as if he’s on the brink of consuming me right there. It sends a surge of warmth through me, going straight to my core. The overcrowded train contributes - I am getting hot and the heat has nowhere to dissipate

He leans closer once more, whispering, “I find it challenging to control my transformations around you and yet, I’m drawn to you, day after day, morning and evening.”

“You’re taking quite the risk,” I acknowledge, the realization dawning on me. He nods in agreement. “I won’t reveal your secret,” I promise.

“I understand,” he replies. “And it’s a risk I’m willing to take. For you. Being near you is thrilling, human.”

“You can call me Trisha. ‘Human’ might be a bit too on the nose,” I quip, lightening the mood.

He offers a smile and nods. “Trisha. I am Ronkar.”

“Ronkar,” I echo. I ask, “How long have you been in our world?”

“Months,” he admits.

“That sounds incredibly tough. Is it lonely?”

“Yes. It’s both challenging and isolating,” he shares, his head tilting in a gesture of vulnerability.

I extend my hand towards him once more, placing it gently on his chest. He tenses for a moment, taking a sharp breath in. “Is this okay? Can I touch you?” I ask, ready to pull back. But instead, he leans in, seeking to maintain our connection.

“Yes,” he breathes out. His gaze then changes, becoming more intense, almost wild with a deeper hunger. “Can I... touch you?” he asks, his voice carrying a curious edge.

I raise an eyebrow. “And how would you like to touch me?” The space between us is alive with a palpable tension.

He glances down at my body, then meets my eyes again. His hand encloses mine, his fingers moving in a careful, rhythmic dance as they begin to change shape. I’m captivated by the transformation.

“In a way that brings you the most pleasure,” he says.

“Here? Now?” I stutter a little, a rush of excitement mixed with nervousness coursing through me, my cheeks warming at the thought.

He nods and steps closer, his jacket hanging open. Now that we’re this close, it forms a curtain around us, making it hard for anyone else to see what’s happening in our little space.

“Only if you’re willing,” he adds.

My brain says ‘hell no.’ And not because he’s a monster - that part excites me. It’s the idea of doing something like this in such a public place that gives me pause, stirring up a mix of fear and thrill. But then, there’s this heat pulsing between my legs, and it gives a signal of ‘hell yes, girl, go for it.’ And I, being someone who tends to follow her instinct over her logic, decide to listen to the supportive voice. “I’m willing,” I say firmly. “I want to,” I add, just to make sure he knows.

His smile widens, and I catch a quick flash of red in his eyes. Then, his hand moves between us, gently touching the waistband of the loose, comfy pants I chose to wear today.