The first time I saw the creature I was running on a secluded beach at the break of dawn. I should’ve been scared when it popped it’s head out of the lake and looked at me.
It had sad eyes, almost lonely. Big green ones that seem to be gazing through you. But also inviting and friendly.
I crept slowly toward the water, surprised it held my stare. Two feet in the water, and it didn’t move. Maybe it was hurt. The water warmed with every step. I was thinking it was definitely hurt. Aren’t animals, if you could call it that, supposed to be afraid of humans?
When it lower it’s head, I gingerly put my hand on top of it. The scaly skin felt like sand paper. It rubbed against my hand as if it longed for contact.
I tried luring it out of the water, but to no success. It dove under the water, splashed me and quickly disappeared.
The sad eyes turned to glad eyes every day I’d go back and visit.