The cruiser pulled over on the side of the road, just ahead of where I was walking. The cop was polite, asked a few questions, didn’t really lean on me much, but he made it clear: I had to be out of town by dark.
Now, keep in mind, you can’t tell what I am just by looking. There’s no mark, no sign. The backs of my hands aren’t hairy, my teeth are normal. There was no blood on my breath that day. I don’t know how he knew; maybe he’s got the sight, saw me turn later that night.