or read the latest words below this line:
“Do you know what that is?” She asked me.
I smiled, causing the corners of her lips to curl up every so slightly, along with her eyes. That’s when I noticed the green around her eyes again.
“Do you know what that green around your eyes is?”
Her vague smile vanished, replaced by an awkward, embarrassed look. She closed the door leaving me alone. I looked at the device she’d handed me and smiled. One more tick off my list!
Then something struck me. I knocked on the door.
“Hey Miss Church, you gave me what I needed, why don’t you let me give you want you need.”
She did not respond, so I tried again. “That green stuff—you’ve been finding it on you for a day or two, right? A thin film of goo…”
“I can tell you what it is.”
“What is it?” she said from behind the door.
I had to remember to pick the best words in her language.
“It’s a lubricant for metamorphosis. You’re changing. Did your parents not teach you about this?”
“WHAT are you talking about?!?” She sounded upset.
“Are you an Earth orphan? Did your parents die—?”
Her door opened, revealing her perplexed face.
“How did you—“ she paused, looking me up and down.
“You can trust me. You gave me the carburetor. Let me give you information it looks like you need.”
Moments later we were sitting on her couch.
“What is this stuff?” She said wiping the green from her eyes.”
“So, gosh, this is going to be… I’ll just tell you—you’re not from here.”
“I know that. I’m from New Jersey.”
“No, you’re from some place farther away than that,” I said, knowing only vaguely where New Jersey was.
“Really. So, where am I from?”