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Mercury-Marvin Sunderland

(he/him) is a transgender autistic gay man with Borderline Personality Disorder. He's from Seattle and currently attends the Evergreen State College. He's been published by University of Amsterdam's Writer's Block, UC Riverside's Santa Ana River Review, UC Santa Barbara's Spectrum, and The New School's The Inquisitive Eater. His lifelong dream is to become the most banned author in human history. He's @RomanGodMercury on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.

 

Ocean TRemors

Narciso sat down at his laptop, distant. He’d just poured himself a cocktail, and was staring blankly at nothing.

            He rubbed his eyes. It had been a long time since he’d last lived in Atlantis. It wasn’t really like he was trying to ignore it, it was just hard for him to not … Spend so much time thinking about.

            Election night is stressful for all of us, he reminded himself. He took a sip of his Maritime Martini. The deep blue color calmed his senses, and he was rather fond of gin, anyway. When he lived under the sea he’d never really gotten much of a sense for alcohol, it wasn’t terribly easy to consume underwater. He hated to drink alone, but he didn’t really spend much time around others, anyway. The city life had been too stressful for him, and that’s why his new on-land home was miles away from the nearest town, with nothing but Greek fields as far as the eye could see.

            His hands were shaking. His body had compromised a lot when he’d decided to leave the naiad life and become human. That’s what happens when any naiad leaves the water. But he just didn’t like pulling humans to their death.

            You’re anxious because you’re getting reminded of home, he reassured himself. It wasn’t like Atlantian politics were affecting the land of Greece. But his social media tonight was downright terrifying. The overwhelming anxiety he was being communicated from nearly everyone he knew was making it way too difficult for him to think about anything else.

            Narciso shut off his laptop. He finished off his drink, and stumbled into his kitchen. It was quiet, and dark outside. It was quiet, lonely, just the way he liked it. No city lights outside interrupting his thoughts, or giving him a headache yet again.

            He opened his door, and sat on his porch steps. The air was dry and unpressured. The grass was alien and stiff, aside from the occasional breeze. The moon loomed in the sky.

            Narciso peeled at his painted nails again. He knew there was nothing he could do about tonight. And yet he still felt so anxious when all he’d done was leave.