“Just when I’m beginning to get used to the idea that we’ve colonised the moon, some bitch murders her husband and causes all this ‘galactic homocide’ bullshit.”
Knowing what I know now, I’m surprised I didn’t immediately glean from those first words she said to me that she wasn’t of this time. But, y’know, us time-travellers are few and far between, and the likelihood of me meeting another one of us in some random compu-cafe’ in New York seemed…well…unlikely.
“Yeah, it’s mad,” I replied. “But it goes to show you can take the Earthling out of Earth, but not the Earth out of the Earthling.”
She laughed a little. “Spoken like a true E.T.”
“Well, I often feel alienated, and I often want to phone home…so yeah. I guess you’re right in that sentiment,” I said, half-jokingly.
She sat back in her chair, seriously pondering my words. Corny as it sounds, I sensed a sort of sadness about her. (Not that she’d want me to tell you that.)
“Hmm. Funny,” she said. “You just described the story of my life…”