"Don't let anyone fool you," he warns. "Werewolves aren't immortal. Our bodies decay just like humans'. And our lives are much shorter than theirs."
"I didn't know that," I say. "But I still think you're lucky to have experienced so many different things in such a short time."
"Maybe," he murmurs.
His wife giggles and claps her hands together. She then leans forwards, and she kisses him on the cheek.
"I'm going to go change into my pajamas," she says. "Do you want to stay up here with us?"
"Sure," he says. "Let me get changed too."
He gets up from the couch and goes upstairs to his bedroom. I watch him walk away, and I feel an ache inside of me. I want to kiss him right now, and I imagine that he feels the same way. But I know that it's impossible because of our place in society. So
