Half-breed

They often used to call her fish memory. She wasn’t particularly annoyed by it. The thought of having an ability like such meant going through life and leaving little to no traces behind for the mind to wallow in.

Time heals all wounds. And when your life centers on a short time-span, barely extending itself in the past and hardly projecting itself into the future, the mantra becomes easily achievable. And that was the case for her.

The gist of Darwinism is that the strongest survives. Hence, adaptability was necessary for her survival. She grew fins. She could no longer breathe the same air her colleagues breathed.

She had a three hundred sixty degree view of the world. However, not much of the input was processed, only the bare minimum required to lead her ephemeral existence. Another systematic filtering embedded in her system.

We are fish, she thinks, and the sea swirls with sharks.