A City Unicorn

It wasn’t easy being a unicorn in the city.

Jennifer didn’t even know how she’d become a unicorn. She had taken to spending time in the park in the city’s heart, with its babbling brooks and green trees and hiking trail that meandered through it all. It was a nice place; it smelled…green.

It had happened slowly one day, as she’d been kneeling alone, looking at her reflection in the pool. Slow, as slowly as clouds drifting from one shape into another, her reflection had changed—and when she looked down, she had changed, too. The reflection was a graceful white equine shape, with a horn, and so was she.

She should have panicked at the change, should have felt clumsy on four new legs…but she didn’t. She wasn’t sure why. She took a mouthful of grass experimentally. It tasted sweet, with a faint chemical hint of pesticide and fertilizer.

She grazed for a while, as other people wandered through the park. Nobody seemed to notice her.

Then it was time to go home, and she was standing on two legs again.

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