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I couldn’t help them. They were out there somewhere, flung among the stars.
The incident at the colony was missing from all forms of media. I guess if you could zip across the galaxy at physics-breaking speeds, you could keep a story quiet in the local press.
Unable to focus on work, and with the bills piling up, I decided to get a part-time gig. I needed social interaction, even if it was superficial.
I worked in an office writing articles for a financial magazine. What did I know about finance? Nothing. It turned out, no one in the office did either. We copied details from the brochures and advertisements, cutting out as much of the sales hype as possible, and that was pretty much it.
Every time I met someone new, I glanced at their wrists. I couldn’t help it. But I never saw what I was looking for, which was a relief.
Every day at twelve, I had lunch with my coworkers. I was always quiet, distracted, staring out the window at the curved edge of the moon. It was so much more beautiful when you were zipping past it at unimaginable speeds. It was like a living thing rather than a rock trapped about its host planet.
When I had a few spare minutes, I typed some ideas of a new story. Of a hot alien guy who abducted a girl with no answers in life. They were perfect for each other.
Most of all, I thought about him. I wondered where he was, what he was doing, if he’d been sent to the most horrific alien prison located in a black hole where time lasted forever… Such thoughts were common when you had an overactive imagination.
After three months, I began to lose hope.
I got to work on an article about mortgages when someone stood in front of my desk.
“You look like you’re in need of a good abduction.”
My fingers froze, perched above the keyboard. My eyes drifted above my monitor at the godlike creature I’d lost my heart to.
How often had I imagined this moment? How many variations had I envisioned? And the one it turned out to be… Me bent over a boring brochure typing up numbers and percentages I didn’t understand into an article very few people would read, was not top of the list.
He looked so out of place in that office, like Indiana Jones at a PTA meeting. The other female office workers glanced in his direction, dispelling the idea that he was just a figment of my imagination.
“Hey, Alice,” Jessica, the office slut, said while chewing on a carrot stick. “Want to introduce me to your friend?”
“Not really,” I said, leaping to my feet.
I swung around my desk and threw my arms around him.
“I never thought I would see you again,” I said. “I thought… I thought…”
He pressed a finger to my nose. “You thought wrong. And I always keep my promises.”
“Are you back now? For good?” I said. “This isn’t a furlough scheme, is it?”
He chuckled. It was music to my ears. “No. I’m all yours. We never have to be parted again.”
“Did you go to prison?” I said.
“Yes. But not for long. They reduced my sentence in exchange for returning the reward payout. I didn’t have enough to bring it down to zero. They warned me that if they caught me smuggling ever again, I’d never see the light of day.”
“Does that mean you’re out of the smuggling game for good?”
“You’d better believe it,” he said. “Oh. I have something for you.”
He opened his hand. Hanging from his fingers was a delicate chain with a heart-shaped locket.
“It took a little longer to track down than I expected,” Nighteko said.
My hands went to my mouth. I immediately put it back on my wrist. I pried it open and saw my parents’ faces beaming back at me.
“Thank you,” I said, tears brimming my eyes.
I took his hand and he led me toward the exit.
