Claire decided very quickly that having to keep a secret was a very hard thing to do. What's more, it wasn't a secret that she had to keep, but rather, one that would be foolish to disclose. After all, who would believe her if she told them that at any given moment, she could change into a six thousand pound hybrid dinosaur?

Yes, it was true. Ever since her little encounter with her "guardian angel", Claire had been on the verge of a sudden transformation. Sure, the mysterious woman had given her a magic necklace to tone down the effects of this strange disease, but it was not enough to keep her entirely safe. Whenever she became overly stressed (which happened a lot, admittedly), Claire would feel nauseous, sprouting a nub of a horn or turning green with scales. She'd rush to the bathroom and hide herself, of course, and nobody seemed to notice her absence.

And so, the days went by under this routine: Claire would get about half of her work done, something would set her off, and she'd run to the bathroom to hide. While most of her coworkers were none the wiser, the urgency with which she would exit the room had caused several scientists to speculate about her condition. Of course, the ditzier employees, such as Robyn and Trixie, claimed that she had the runs. Other people, such as Yarslov and Jayden, said that she was having a secret fling with one of the mechanics. And then, much to Claire's everlasting horror, Dr. Wu had modified this theory to suggest that she was seeing Owen. Wu was joking, of course, but the rumor stuck. Claire found herself wishing that people would believe Robyn's theory instead.

One day, when she exited the bathroom after a particularly bad panic attack, by some stroke of terrible coincidence, she bumped into Owen. He had been carrying a box of papers, and they spilled across the ground messily as he stumbled. Claire watched him pick up the sheets with a deep frown.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm delivering some forms," he muttered as he shoveled the papers back into his box, "Turns out, I'm overdue on my payments for-"

"I was only half curious," Claire said briskly, "Make sure you don't leave anything behind."

Owen stood up.

"I won't. Now that I'm here, though, I was wondering if-"

"No."

He nodded.

"Yeah, alright. I'll see you later, then."

"No, you really won't."

She walked down the hallway with what she hoped looked like a dignified gait. A few seconds later, Owen called out to her.

"Claire, wait! You-"

"I'm not interested."

"No, it's not-"

"Go away, please."

He dashed after her.

"Claire-"

She entered another hallway, closing the door behind her. Owen wouldn't be able to get in without an access card. She could hear him knocking frantically, but she just kept walking.

A few minutes later, she was working in the lab. Part of her job included caring for the park's upcoming assets. It was mostly data-collecting: nothing too difficult. Claire scribbled a couple of notes on her clipboard, marking the temperature and the time. She examined a cluster of eggs, tapping them gently with the back of her pen. One of the eggs wiggled. Claire smiled and watched it crack.

"Are you ready to come out?" she cooed.

The egg jittered, then stopped. Claire frowned. There was a crack, but no baby. She waited for eight minutes, and nothing happened. With a deep sigh, she stood up straight and called out to her coworkers.

"We have another prenatal death."

A scruffy-looking scientist quickly waddled over and placed the egg in a plastic bag. He handed it to a group of workers, nodding to a small door on the wall. Claire turned away and exhaled solemnly.

"Don't be upset. It happens," one of the workers said.

"I know!" Claire said, too quickly, "I just don't like it when the ani- when the assets perish. We lose money."

The worker nodded and brought the remains of the egg to the incinerator. Before dropping it in, he turned back to Claire.

"Should we run a test on the embryo to see what went wrong?"

Claire bit her lip.

"I guess we should . . ."

He walked away. Claire sighed and reached for her necklace in an agitated tic. When she didn't feel it around her neck, her heart dropped. Quickly, she fumbled around her collar, trying to find the familiar bump of a thin chain. It wasn't there.

Claire began to hyperventilate. As soon as she started to worry, she felt her insides shifting, not just metaphorically, but literally. Of course, the stress of her transformation was provoking the very act itself, and this time, it would be completed all the way. Claire dashed out of the lab and sprinted down the hallway, finding an isolated bathroom. Once inside, she slammed the door shut, locked it, and collapsed against the sink, breathing heavily. She sucked air through her teeth as she felt the painful sensation of plates poking out of her back. When she began to grow horns, something inside of her broke. With an agonized cry, she slammed her fist against the mirror. It smashed under the impact, and her hand was injured.

Claire held her bleeding hand in the other, breathing unsteadily as she tried to fight the pain. When she turned back to the mirror, she noticed something terribly wrong with her reflection. Of course, there were horns on her head, but it seemed to her that they were only visible when she looked at herself a certain way. The fragmented mirror almost gave the illusion of normality at some angles. When she would turn her head, however, she would see the truth.

Despite her best efforts, Claire couldn't help but break down in tears. She sobbed as scales covered her skin, and seeing this only made things worse. Even when she closed her eyes, she could feel that something was wrong with her. She took a deep breath and tried to fight the change.

"This isn't me, this isn't me . . ."

Of course, it was her. She was letting it happen, and that wasn't right. She didn't want to be the kind of person who let this happen. She was stronger than that. She could fight it.

"It's not you," she told her reflection, "Don't let this happen."

She was so afraid that she had little to no choice in the matter. The fear only grew as her other self did. Still, she tried to fight it, her voice quavering all the while.

"Don't let this happen. Don't let this happen. You're better than this. Don't let it get-"

When she began to sprout a beak, Claire decided that it was too late. She lost her ability to speak clearly, and so she didn't even try. She simply sobbed as the change happened faster. It was too late. It was too late.

Through her sobbing, she thought she heard someone walk past the door. She tried to quiet down, but she couldn't stop herself from weeping. A few moments later, a small note slid under the door, and with it, her necklace. Quickly, she grabbed it and held it in her beak, watching her reflection go back to normal. It was funny that her eyes never changed. They were the only part of her that stayed beautiful, and she couldn't even see them without the help of a reflective surface.

Her transformation subsiding, Claire turned to the note and began to read it.

You dropped this when we bumped into each other. I think the clasp is broken. Don't be upset about the egg. Tomorrow is another day.

Beside the last line, Owen had drawn a smiley face. Claire read the note over a few times before she remembered that she was sitting on all fours with a necklace in her mouth. She stood up with embarrassment, brushed herself off, and put the necklace in her front pocket. She was about to chuck the note, but instead, she held onto it. Just so that she could recycle it, of course.

Passing several recycling bins on the way to her office, Claire didn't stop to think about anything. To think was to be stressed, and to be stressed was fatal. When she arrived at her office, Claire closed the door and sat down at her desk, tucking the note away in a small drawer. She went back to writing, but began to tap her pen in agitation. After a moment, she opened the drawer with haste, read the note, and put it back. She repeated this action several times over, until she decided to simply leave the note in front of her while she worked.

The funny thing was, when she saw the paper smiling up at her, she was inclined to smile too.