Hard of Believing

It’s easy to take for granted some of the bad qualities in us.

The first real conversation I had with one of them was quite shockingly addictive. The man had a way of holding your attention in a way you wouldn’t believe. He told me of all the planets he had visited, of all the stars he had seen, of all the wondrous technology that his people have invented in the comparatively short time of their existence. It was quite surprising how similar we were in physiological conformity. If you didn’t believe he was from a different planet, nobody would have blamed you.

But whenever I told him of our planet, he seemed dazed and confused. He always leaned forward in his chair like he was deaf, as if he couldn’t quite get the gist of what you were saying, but by God he understood every word. Unlike myself, his eyes never opened and beamed like a small child’s would. His stories were unimaginable to me, and yet to him, my primitive and utterly comprehensible tales seemed to always raise one of his skeptic brows.

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