I was in bed and bored. My room was silent like a snowy night. I could hear no sound even the annoying ticking of a kitchen clock.

Sleep didn't come easily just like last night, and I was twisting, and turning, and thinking. I was convinced my conversation with Sylvester might help me with my anxiety at least, but it didn't. I was sure he liked the coin situation, for tomorrow we are going to the conservatory like two jolly adventurers. Two bloody Scrooge McDucks in search for a treasure! From Sylvester's perspective, it was just another fun day. He probably thought I was pranking him and simply played along. In the morning I expect him to bring some turkey sandwiches, a thermos of tea or, knowing him, something stronger.

All my life used to be boring: simple parents, simple friends, simple everything but Sylvester, local Casanova. "Be grateful!", "Be humble!", "Be a good girl!" I am suffocating: in my head, it seems, I have a grand universe that is enlarging into endlessness where I live any life I want, where I can be anyone I want, do anything I want, but the reality is suppressing like a small prison cell where I am serving my life sentence having committed no crime. In my childhood I was certain I could become a great person when I grew up. I would travel around the world and have an advantageous life, see new places and people, become a firefighter or an astronaut or something like that. But I'm still here: in bed and bored.

Ladies and gentlemen, two burning issues of nighttime's agenda are: firstly, I might be insane thinking that I have seen a mermaid; secondly, I might like a girl...

I hid my head under the pillow.

The fact that I liked her swept me off my feet, and I couldn't properly feel the ground. I've never been in love with a woman or had a romantic date within my own gender. I liked men. I did date them a couple of times, and that was quite nice. I didn't hate those pleasant evenings at all. It just didn't work out.

But she was special. There was something about her, something I couldn't explain: Beauty? Mystery? Sensuality? Isn't it shallow to like somebody because he or she is beautiful or sensual? You are shallow, Marina! She is a romantic fairytale for a silly, imaginative girl like you. Obviously, I had seen her before, and my brain played a dirty trick with me. No mystery, no body transfiguration, no coin with a curse.

"Was she flirting with me or it was just in my head and I might confused politeness with her romantic interest?" I thought. "She could be nice but totally straight. And if I find her at the cafe, she would be glad to see me again, her new friendly friend, and would tell me all about her husband, kids, and show me her wedding photos during the break.

She might have taken me for someone else, I mean, I didn't want to hurt her feelings just trying to be with a woman or satisfying my bi-curiosity. She deserves someone who's one hundred percent sure of their feelings and intentions. What if she thinks that she is a beta version of my future traditional relations with a man, or I'm just playing around experimenting with my sexuality and she happens to be near?

I released my head from the pillow, breathing in the fresh air. I nervously tucked my hair behind the ear.

I'm not doing that. She is worth having someone who is not sad and confused.

I will be ok. Tomorrow I'm going to have rad time with Sylvester. The day after tomorrow I'll start my old routine again. Four, five years from now, my friend and I look on this, stupid mermaid story, and laugh.

I stood up, took the coin, which was glowing unusually bright in the waning moon's light, put it in the drawer, and went to bed.

I'll be just ok.