With a few taps on the screen, it’s mine. I clap my hands in excitement, a rush of joy washing over me as I take another bite of my sweet treat.
My ears prick up overhearing a conversation between two middle-age women at a nearby table. They wear fashionable clothes like me; however, their coordination and colorarrangements are terrible, thrown together like a Jackson Pollock.
Maybe I should offer fashion advice?
“Did you see the news? They’re saying a UFO has been sighted in Scotland and Japan!” the woman in the green jacket and blue skirt exclaims.
“That sounds ridiculous, probably China sending out spy balloons again,” the other woman replies dismissively.
“No, they’re posting videos online. They’re wild, see for yourself,” Green jacket insists.
Curiosity compels me to check my smartphone, hoping for some social media fodder. The news feeds are buzzing with frantic headlines and blurry videos of a gray object darting through the skies like a blinking light. Live streams are awash with hysterical speculation, stating that the UFO was last seen heading from Europe over the Atlantic.
This is wild!
A bold headline catches my attention: “Hostile Alien Stalks Scottish Highlands!” My pulse quickens as I watch shaky camera footage, apparently from a cop’s body cam. With guns raised, they approach a quaint house, their heavy accents carrying palpable nerves and confusion. Suddenly, the front door bursts open and a massive... figure stoops and squeezes through. I gasp as it straightens to reveal it’s half as tall and wide as the house.
“Hostile spotted. Open fire!” The screen is bathed in muzzle flashes, the snap and bang of gunfire ringing out. The giant humanoid, clad in ash-colored armor flecked with blood-red sparkles, absorbs the bullets, which spark yellow upon impact, seeming to have no effect.
“What the hell is it?” a terrified cop questions, echoing my thoughts. The titan stands unfazed, shocking red wisps of smoke leaking from its menacing mask.
Is it going to explode?
“Lag’gar!” A harsh, deep voice like thunder startles me, radiating disdain. The titanic alien raises his right arm, unleashing sizzling blue blasts into the crowd of cops. Screams of terror and agony fill the air as the camera shakes violently, capturing frantic breaths and running before everything fades to black, leaving the commentators and me in stunned silence.
This can’t be real!This must be AI-generated or something. I’ve seen crazy, realistic stuff like this before.But why are all the news stations reporting it? My mind whirls, trying to process if this is real. If it is, what does it mean for me? I’m so distracted that I almost miss a message from my recruitment agency.
With impatient anticipation, I open the message, expecting the good news.
Hi Alexandra Turner, thank you for meeting with us. After careful consideration, we’ve decided to move forward with another candidate who closely—
I stop reading, shoving the cell away in disgust. My teeth clench, and my chest heaves with rapid breaths.I can’t believe this!It must’ve been that bitch Cathy with the lemon face.She’s done this to me, that jealous, soured, dried-up bore. She couldn’t stand having someone more intelligent, younger, and beautiful showing her up for the useless douchebag she is.
My fist shakes with seething anger until a sense of dread washes over me.I have nothing... I’m broke, jobless, and cut off from Mother.What the hell am I going to do? Suddenly, I feel sick, clutching my stomach as my vision narrows. The walls of the calm cafe seem to close in.I’m going to be homeless... cast into the streets like a common hobo, surrounded by drug addicts, alcoholics, and other smelly people.
This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.
Chapter 3
Alexandra
Farewell
Myfingerdrumsrestlesslyagainst the café table, each tap echoing my mounting desperation. How do I get out of this mess?I’ll call Mother. She’ll fix this, she has to. I’m her only child, and I know beneath her harsh words, she still loves me... right? The dial tone echoes, each iteration a knife in my heart. It goes to voicemail. Itut, knowing Mother is there; she’s never without her cell. I repeat the process for the umpteenth time, tapping my mocha cup with impatience.
Pick up, Mother!
“For God’s sake, Alexandra! James and I are at the matinee. What on Earth is so urgent?” Mother’s angry voice startles me, almost knocking me out of my chair with surprise that she actually answered.
“Mother dearest, something terrible has happened!” I exclaim, mimicking the voice I used as a child—part desperate, part pleading, on the verge of tears.Playing this just right will solve all my problems.
“What is it this time?” Mother replies, clearly unmoved, filling me with ominous dread, but I press on, undeterred.
“I didn’t get the stupid job!” I wail into the cell, my heart pounding with the hope that finally, after weeks of being ignored, Mother has picked up. It’s my opportunity to fix things.
A deafening silence stretches on, and I’m tempted to check if Mother is still there.
“So?” she says, devoid of care.
