Wolf’s Teeth, by William Falo

I lingered too long; tonight was a full moon. I ran toward home and saw Ivan in the street holding the gun. He raised the weapon; his hand was shaking.
“Elena,” he said. I ran. He didn’t shoot.
I woke up on the couch and touched my teeth. Wolf’s teeth. There was blood on them.
Ivan. I ran upstairs. Whatever happened, please don’t think of me as a monster. Can a monster have a heart? I know I do because mine was breaking. That means I’m not a monster, doesn’t it?