They say rejection is just redirection. I wish I could buy into those words, but after living in this world for three centuries, those clichés really do get old. 

1005 B.C.

Somewhere along my bloodline, my ancestors received two supernatural gifts: the ability to transform into other organic lifeforms, and a lifespan ten times longer than the average human's. Armed with newfound powers, my ancestors started running around conquering empires and waging war on small nations. Fast forward to my more recent family, like my Uncle Kade and Aunt Sue. They found themselves working in the shadows of society; assassinations, spying, and undercover missions, you name it. Finally, there’s me. Two hundred ninety years old, the mortal equivalent of a 29-year-old, living in the year 2020. While my ancestors were dismantling political regimes only a few decades ago, I was still learning how to do my taxes. Still, I shouldn’t be complaining. After all, I chose this life. 

January, 1979

About forty human years ago, I was given a choice. The CIA and other foreign intelligence agencies were just starting to become aware of my family’s abilities, and sought to contract us to further their own agendas. The salary, paid upfront in cash, was enticing enough for some of my cousins and even my own parents to take the offer. Since then, they’ve worked as government operatives, and I’ve fallen out of touch with them. That’s because I chose the other route: blending into the population, and living a normal life amongst the mortals. The youngest of my supernatural family, all the politics weren’t worth my time. I would much rather live like normal, and make the life for myself that I had taken away from me when I was born into this world. Through this outlet, I was able to live in content. But to tell the truth, having free time wasn’t the only reason I didn’t join my family. What I failed to mention was that… I met a girl.

August, 2020

Anna Jennings — North Carolina born and raised, studying Political Science at New York University. I remember the first time I saw her, about ten human years ago. She had just moved from her hometown to New York, and stumbled into the coffee shop I frequented — Cafe Frisco. Living in New York City, especially through the several lifetimes I have, nothing could phase me anymore. I’d seen everything from police shootouts to homeless beggars running fight clubs with rats. Yet as this college freshman girl walked past me and to the register, Jansport backpack at her side, my heart did a flip. Hundreds of strangers had passed me all day in this cafe, yet not one of them had caught my attention. Why her? Then, my brain finally caught up with my heart. She was gorgeous. Blonde hair, grey eyes. Not with supermodel, Hollywood actress traits, but the type of beauty that radiates throughout any room. It was obvious that she was new to the city; her leather boots, washed jeans, and emerald green sweater gave that away. Yet to me, she still looked like the most well-put-together woman I’d ever seen. In my two hundred ninety years, I had wooed many women from each and every country in North America. This should be no different. As I approached, I thought about where me and this mysteriously attractive woman would have our first date. I was jolted back to real life when I stopped in my tracks, realizing a mistake I had made. On that day in particular, I had chosen to shapeshift, taking the form of a sixty year old man. Well, that appearance won’t work. I was stuck. I awkwardly spun around and paced back to the table I was seated at. I guess there are disadvantages to being a shapeshifter. If I couldn’t introduce myself now, I would have to keep a tab on coffee shop girl and greet her in another form later. 

September, 2020

Two weeks passed, and I was ready to make my move. The day I failed to introduce myself to Anna in Cafe Frisco was the same day I followed her back to her dorm, always maintaining at least twenty feet of distance. A stalker? No, I wouldn’t call myself a stalker. An “admirer from afar” would be more appropriate. It was at this point that I decided the best way to win the heart of a college student was to become one myself. I hunted down a handsome 20ish year old man and willed my body to mirror his appearance. Within seconds, I was calibrated. 

Walking into the same history lecture as Anna was almost too easy when I looked like just another NYU sophomore. I sat down, fearless, in the seat next to her. In my new, handsome, college form, I introduced myself for the first time. 

“Hey, nice to meet you, I just transferred here,” is what came out of my mouth. 

“Wow, I’m brand new here too!” she laughed. “I’m Anna, I’m from Raleigh.”

“Let me take down your number,” I replied. “In case I ever need a study partner.”

We proceeded to exchange names and contact information. Introduced, check. Get on a first name basis, check. Phone number? Check. 

January, 2021
It had now been four months since I saw Anna for the first time in Cafe Frisco. Over those months, I hadn’t shifted from my form of a twenty-year-old college student. Even for someone with supernatural capabilities, love was an enemy I could not defeat. In fact, this time around, I had happily dove headfirst into it. Call my fondness for Anna weakness if you want, but if this was what weakness felt like, I wanted it all the time. I suspected my feelings were slightly one-sided, and that she didn’t have the means to reciprocate my affection to the level I had. I didn’t mind. We had become closer, and were becoming romantically involved outside of our one shared history lecture. 

August, 2021

The first day I met Anna, everything seemed to move in slow motion. I began gravitating towards a slower, more meaningful pace of living my life. That day in the cafe, I could recall every detail of every second. The freckles on her nose, the boots on her feet, and the funny way her eyes darted across the menu. Sadly, now a year later, it all began to fall apart. Spending time away from each other during the summer had not done our relationship any favors. Gaps appeared in the time I spent with her. The thoughts and feelings I shared in my journal came in shorter and shorter excerpts. It felt like I barely knew her anymore. 

November, 2023

Two years later, I was back to my old ways. No longer was the grip that Anna held on my heart. We were no longer in touch, I was no longer in the form of a college student, and I was back on the streets of New York, living out my days. I wouldn’t entertain a woman again. Or so I thought. 

In November of that same year, I sat down in a five-star steakhouse, across from a strikingly beautiful woman. Auburn hair, sleek black dress, and nails that had been polished that same day. It was the first girl I had been on a date with since Anna. I had come across her by chance, bumping into her on the street because I was in a rush to catch the subway one day. We opened with small talk; pointless conversation that made me zone out. That was until my date served me words that dropped my heart to my stomach:

“So, I guess we both have this power…”

“W-what did you just say?” I stammered.

“It’s really great to see you again Jace,” she replied coolly. “It’s me, Anna.”