Spaceman

The first time he visited, I saw him enter through my bedroom window, take off his helmet and start humming to himself, as if he didn’t know I was there. I faked sleep, until I decided to see what a real spaceman looked like from up close.

I crept out of bed, tapped him on the shoulder, and introduced myself. But he just asked me if I knew the song. I shook my head no, and taught him how to dance instead.

After he’s done dancing, he jumps out the window and blasts away. He won’t even tell me what planet he’s from.

For the longest time I thought that spaceman was testing me, trying to see if I would care to tour the universe with him, then I realized how absurd that sounded. But why would he come to my room every night so often just to dance with me?

It made me think he must just like it here. And I can’t really blame him. I like it here too. Here’s not such a bad place if you can learn to forget everything for three-and-a-half minutes.