Tonya pressed the palm of her hand on Lucy’s forehead. “Are you feeling all right? You’re cold. Freezing. You’ll catch something.”

“Touch me,” Lucy said, though Tonya’s hand was already on her forehead. What she really wanted to say was, reach into me, see inside me, feel what I feel, the warmth, the sun, the glorious thrumming of everything living that surrounds us.

Tonya took off her robe and draped it around Lucy’s shoulders. “What has gotten into you,” she muttered as she led Lucy towards their house.

Their brick townhouse was surrounded by townhouses exactly like it, each joined to its twin by a slate-colored rooftop, and each individual backyard a slice evenly cut and circumscribed by a low brick wall. In the early light, the neighborhood bustled awake, the smell of coffee mixing with the scent of dewy grass, objects clinking and clanging behind closed doors. Shadows passed behind windows, curtains darkening as figure hovered then retreated. Had someone seen her?

Lucy wrapped her arms around herself, clutching Tonya’s robe as if she were cold. She wasn’t. She felt nothing but the confusion of being suspended between one world and another.

When they re-entered the living room through the French doors, the sudden drop of sunlight inside the house made her knees buckle. The robe fell off her shoulders. Tonya bent and gathered the soft terrycloth in her arms, looking at Lucy like she was ill. Lucy said she was sorry, though she didn’t know what for. It wasn’t the embarrassment of standing naked in the sun. The neighbors had seen stranger things. They’d once found Mrs. Garofalo hitting a baby alligator with her purse that was hiding in the runoff, sure it was trying to take her poodle. Another time they woke hearing Mr. Landis’ scream that aliens had invaded when a crude star of flat grass had quite suddenly imprinted itself onto his lawn — though later, when a local reporter showed up, Mr. Landis’ son confessed to the deed. He had wanted to punish his father for not letting him major in Botany at college.

No, it wasn’t the scandal of her nakedness that pulled on her conscience. Rather, it was a presentiment, as yet undefined. Tonya seemed appeased by the apology, but when she leaned on Lucy’s shoulder and pinched the new seedling, the tips of her nails scraping her skin, Lucy swung around, pushing Tonya away.

“Ouch!” She covered her shoulder with her hand. “Why did you do that?”

“That follicle keeps getting infected.”

“It’s a plant. One would think you’d seen plenty of them to know one when you see one.”

Tonya turned to the French door and slid them shut. She turned to face Lucy. “Are you crazy or are you pulling my leg? You think it’s funny, going out there naked?”

Tonya said other things, too, about Lucy being stubborn and foolish and reading too much crap on the internet, but Lucy couldn’t pay attention. The moment the house was sealed off from the outdoor, her head filled with murmurs coming at her from various angles of the living room. She was certain there were insects in the bookcase, beetles scurrying in the walls, tiny spiders weaving nets between the windows and the screens, larvae incubating under the roots of the potted geraniums, and a lizard dwelling secretly under the peace lily’s low leaves.

“So, do you want to tell me what possessed you?” Tonya was asking. She was in the kitchen, speaking loud to overcome the sound of running water while she filled the coffeepot from the tap.

“I must have been sleepwalking.”

“You’ve never sleepwalked, except when you take Ambien. I thought you’d given up the sleeping pills.”

Lucy had, in fact, but the potted peace-lily needed water, and the steam from the dishwasher was torturing the cactus with searing hot steam. Tonya kept talking—about the neighbors, about how hard it had been for them to be welcomed, the only gay couple in the community, while Lucy filled a jar and poured water over the parched lily. Then, she removed the cactus pot from the window sill and brought it to the bathroom, setting it near the tub.

Tonya followed her. “Don’t take those pills anymore. You’re scaring me.”

Lucy turned the tub faucet on to lukewarm.

“Did you want breakfast? ‘Cause I’m running late.”

Lucy slipped into the tub.

“Are you mad at me? You’re the one who was out there showing off your goodies. You’re going to be late! You’d better get your ass upstairs,” Tonya shouted turning away. She stomped off and up the stairs, into their bedroom, slamming closet doors and drawers as she got ready for school.

Before long, Tonya’s heavy steps vibrated down the staircase again. The bathroom door slammed open, revealing her flushed face. “What on earth are you doing? You’re going to be late for the hearing.”

“I don’t feel well.”

“You’re not even warm.”

“I can reschedule.” Lucy reached for the thin new growth on her shoulder. She tried to gauge what her next words might sound like. There was no good way of saying it: “I think… I’m turning into something, Tonya. There’s some kind of transformation happening, and it’s beautiful. I just want you to understand.”

“Jesus, Lucy. Next, you’re going to tell me the earth is flat.”

“I’m not talking about the shape of the planet. I’m talking about a kind of inner change,” she said. She had expected Tonya to argue, but not the disgust she saw in her lover’s face, her cheek muscles tensing, the lips tugging downward even as her eyes enlarged momentarily before squinting.

“What the hell is that?”

Lucy followed the trajectory of her pointed finger. There was a tiny spot, like a bruise on the back of her hand. Thin veins surfaced under Lucy’s pale skin in vine-like formations. They raised the skin and felt hard to the touch, their color a dark fern green.

“What did you just do?”

“I didn’t do anything. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’m changing.”

Tonya opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her eyes glared hard at her, as though trying to read an answer to the mystery from her face. At last, she said, “You’re not giving birth to a plant. That doesn’t happen to people.”

“It’s happening to me.”

“That’s impossible.” Tonya’s shout made the lightbulbs ring.

“Maybe if you yell louder, it will all go away.”

“You’re doing this to yourself. There’s a name for this…not speciesdysphoria…no, it’s…it’s…Otherkin! You’re living out a delusion and you’re…” she pointed shakily at Lucy’s hands, “…painting that on yourself. I have to go. Call the doctor. I mean it. Today. And I’m going to have a chat with your shrink later.”