His mind was groggy as he pulled himself awake. He felt the small body of a child crawl over top and snuggle in beside him. He glanced at the clock. 2:43 AM.

"Can I sleep with you?" she asked, far too awake.

"Just for a bit," he managed to say as he slipped back into the darkness.

His mind was groggy as he pulled himself awake. The small body still curled up beside him. Where was his wife? She normally took the kid back to her room. He glanced at the clock. 3:03 AM.

"Ready to go back to bed, kid?"

"Not yet."

Again, darkness.

His mind was groggy as he pulled himself awake. The small body still curled up beside him. Something was wrong. He glanced at the clock. 3:33 AM. He tried to pull his mind out of the fog.

"I'm James Comwell," he said to himself. "Space cadet in the…"

Alarm bells began ringing, and a warning message sounded over the loudspeaker.

"All space cadets report to the bridge. There has been a breach. Alien life form aboard."

The warning repeated.

In his bunk, the small body curled in closer.

The End

A boy, maybe ten, is wedged into the corner of the café. Behind smudged rimless glasses his eyes dart for an empty table. His black sweatpants are puddled over his shoes, and the horizontal rainbow stripes on his black shirt yawn across his paunch. His left hand claws the straps of a grey rucksack that’s flopped on the floor. In the crook of his right arm are a wrapped chocolate muffin and a soda can. A table for four empties. Before anyone else, the boy lunges. His foot gets entangled in a strap, and he vanishes behind a chair. The table behind him erupts with snickering kids. The boy emerges with his black bowl-cut hair drawn open like a stage curtain. Under flaring nostrils his cheeks flush red. He untangles his foot, lays an emptied sack on the table, and bends down to pick up the things that fell out. A textbook, a Batman pencil box, a zipped-up bag with a half-eaten sandwich and a small orange juice box. An Ajumma\ who looks like a melting lipstick scurries to the table. We were here first, and this table is meant for four, she hisses as she points her sparkling finger at a group of lombarding\ women. The kid doesn’t look up as he slowly packs the sack like someone who already missed his train. Rebuffed by his silence, she briskly swerves around, clipping the back of his head with her red leather bag, shutting the curtains. As she flounces back tsking, she laments that not everyone should be a parent. Tsk, tsk, tsk, echoes the flock. The boy unwraps a flattened muffin, then abruptly turns, scanning the floor around the table. He stops. Without standing up, he leans towards the group of kids and picks up a dented soda can. His head bobs as he nibbles pieces of muffin, and his fingers flick the cracked display of his phone. The soda has to wait.

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Thank you for reading. I'm open to feedback.

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* Ajumma (Korean) : Generally refers to married women or women in their late 40 to 60s. Sociolinguistically describes a woman who is unafraid to speak her mind. She is considered to be a tough negotiator, pushes through crowded subway doors, or takes charge of a situation. Often called the backbone of the country (South Korea).

* Lombarding : Borrowed from the Lombard Effect. "The involuntary tendency of speakers to raise their voice and change their speech style when background noise gets too loud."