Routine Flight

I didn’t mind so much when she started telling me about her ex-husband–we had that in common–and I didn’t think it uncomfortable when she told be about how attentive her new boyfriend, 15 years her junior, was or how great his family was about their relationship. Asking for my birthday in order to make some assumptions about me based on my zodiac sign was a bit over the line, but I let it slide. It was a long flight and I’d already had my typical nap so the banter proved to be entertaining at least. When we landed though, I knew something was terribly wrong. She showed me pictures on her phone: random flashes of light in a dark background. She claimed they were UFOs, that she’d set up a camera and took pictures off the coast at night, that she hadn’t seen anything but the camera could, and that the flashes were alien space craft, that the government suppressed the release of the photos, and that she worried for her safety, that the government was out to get her. If I couldn’t lose her in the airport terminal, I’d have to take care of suppressing her myself before the other operatives could intervene.

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