Unidentified at Lunch

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Alien_lunch

 

He appeared suddenly, entering peripherally from my blind spot, tray in hand.

“Is someone sitting here?”

“No, no one is. Go ahead.”

Casual lunch companions—that’s fast-food etiquette for you. We sat and ate in silence, but being the nosy girl that I am, I began sneaking quick looks at him.

He appeared to have an enviably efficient digestive system. The boy gulped down his lunch with nary a thought to propriety or even taste. He did look like a sweet boy, albeit somewhat too dreamy for his own good. His shirt had ironing lines in all the right places; his hair was neatly trimmed around the ears.

Fairly decent traffic for a rainy weekend, I thought. And then my third sneak peek at the boy made me gulp down an inane smile. I did a subtle double take just to make sure. Yes, there it was, all right. Written on the ID badge hanging conspicuously around his neck, laser-printed in Helvetica all caps bold, just over his name, was the word HUMAN.

Oh so properly identified. Was this finally, that warp in time I keep expecting to claim me?

Maybe this is the future, year 4056, and I am the alien, out to lunch.

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