You're strolling through the riverside park like a zombie - every step is like a battle against yourself, but staying at home has become unbearable. Suddenly, your knees betray you, making you slump on the nearest bench. Your eyes close on their own. the calming sound of moving water soothes your headache - soon, you start losing the connection to reality. The last few days have become a blur in your mind - a mix of insomnia, hunger and sickness. Hopefully, you won't wake up.

Feels surreal, doesn't it? Like it's not really happening.

You half-open your eyes and turn to the sound. A girl that wasn't there a mere minute ago is sitting beside you, looking at the river flow dreamily. As you reel back instinctively, your mind recalls stories about the Changeling, pushing away the weariness.

You too...

There is a hint of sadness in her voice, but it gets drowned by the malice in her eyes when she turns to you.

Why does everyone look at me like that? I don't bite...

Seeing your apprehension, the Changeling sighs and lower her gaze, inspecting her hands. Her long, slender fingers are smeared with blood.

Of course, it's about the skin. The skin is a connection — it's what you use to touch the world, isn't it? Your border. But touch is transformative. You can only change someone through touch. They'll undergo a metamorphosis, and not even notice. But no one believes me. No one reaches out to me…