Last night we talked about the birds dying. The Great Salt Lake which wasn’t all that great in person. The cursed Saltair building that sat boarded up on its shore like a bad omen. You said it wasn’t political in the slightest.
The radio played ‘Star Crossed’ by Scary Kids Scaring Kids.
I drank an entire pint of water in one rapid gulp.
“About those birds,” you said, “it wasn’t my fault.”
“They say it happened back in February.”
“Like some kind of omen?”
“Feels like some kind of omen.”
You got quiet, faced forward, and gripped the steering wheel. Never said where we were going or when that would be. We both just knew it was supposed to be home. And god I was ready to get there.
The place we stopped at was an old friend’s, a married couple who’d recently had a baby.
You looked forlorn.
“When you wake up this time, promise me you’ll go get something to drink?”
I opened my eyes immediately after, with a dry throat. 1:35am. Alone. I pulled my sore body out of bed and made my way into the kitchen. The melody replayed itself in my head.
I thought about the birds and how they’d just wanted to get home too. My whole body felt dehydrated from the salt.
The shadows in corner didn’t look the same. Like they’d somehow forgotten their own names.
Alien Translations 