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Description
First Kind

You’re walking down the sidewalk hand in hand with the person the dictionary defines as a male that is the preferred companion of a female, but in reality is comprised of many more dimensions than any book could ever define, and you trust him; you’ve just moved to the area and don’t know many places to go, so when he suggests a small burger stand for something to eat, you agree. It’s dark out, and you’ve been walking all day with him, so you’re fairly ravenous. He assures you that the food is tasty and that you won’t be disappointed.

As you walk along, he moves his arm to rest on your waist in a gesture to share warmth, and you’re glad for it. You approach the burger stand. He leans over to press his lips to your forehead, but as he does, a tall, dark man suddenly enters the picture that had been empty before.

You can’t see his features all that clearly, but from the way he sounds, he seems as if he’s been taking something funny. Man, the stranger says, that’s so beautiful, man. That’s like undeniable love, man. But as soon as he’s appeared, he’s disappeared again. There’s no trace of him save for the wondering if he was ever really there in the first place.

While you stand there, rooted to the spot on the sidewalk in the almost dark and slightly cold, you’re not quite sure how you should feel.

Second Kind

It’s a few days later, and you’ve been out in the city with him again. This time, however, you’re on a bus back home, weary from walking miles to nowhere. After you plop down in your seat, you lean against him and try to ignore the woman behind you who is talking to herself. She could be on a bluetooth headset, but judging from the way she’s dressed and the phrases she says, she probably isn’t.

You settle yourself in for a long ride back and can’t help but listen to what the woman mutters. She mentions terrorists for some reason, and you wonder why. You tilt your face up and kiss your companion-who-is-more-than on the cheek, and when he goes to do the same, the woman growls, Watching people suck face is disgusting. Unsettled, you simply lay your head on his shoulder, hoping that this will appease the woman and that maybe her stop is next.

It isn’t. A few stops down, she is still behind you. You have been mostly ignoring her, but when she exclaims suddenly, You will never survive, asshole, you have too many enemies, you feel your pulse begin to race. Who is this woman and what does she want? Who is she talking to? You? Nobody? You calm yourself down, and the woman seems to do the same.

The bus has driven down the road for a few minutes that seem longer than they should be when it stops, and you hear the woman behind you shuffle to disembark. Die, you faggot filth, she proclaims before crossing the aisle and stepping onto the sidewalk. The doors close, and you both let out a shaky laugh. You realize a moment later that there is now a girl behind you, and she’s talking about the muttering woman. After you turn around to see the girl, the two of you start a conversation with her and her friend.

It was bizarre, you all say.

I thought she was going to hurt me, the girl says.

Third Kind

Like the last encounter, you are on the bus back home, again leaning on your multi-dimensional person. There do not seem to be any tall, dark men or crazy women, and you are relieved. You drift in and out of consciousness, relaxed and worn-out. Before long, you hear a man talking to an acquaintance across the bus aisle.

I have to go to the QFC, the man explains. I can’t go to the QFC on the left, because they don’t have the cellphones I like, so I have to go to the one on the right.

Realizing that he’s probably not going to have any interesting sort of conversation, you drift back out. After a while, however, his voice filters back into your mind.

Look at them, he says to his friend. See those two? She’s gorgeous, and so is he. They’re beautiful. God made us to love each other.

Suddenly, there is a quiet whisper in your ear: I think he’s talking about us.

You nod to agree, and are almost afraid to move for the almost absurd reason that’s just crossed your mind. If this man wants to talk about the both of you as you are now, then why not stay that way and let him talk?

He gets off the bus soon enough anyway, and you eventually fall asleep.

Third Kind: Redux

A few days later, the two of you are in a park that overlooks the bay. You’re not doing much of anything, just walking around and enjoying the sunset. A man catches your attention, and you recognize him as the QFC man.

That’s cool, man, he says, nodding. That’s cool.

Description
First Kind

You’re walking down the sidewalk hand in hand with the person the dictionary defines as a male that is the preferred companion of a female, but in reality is comprised of many more dimensions than any book could ever define, and you trust him; you’ve just moved to the area and don’t know many places to go, so when he suggests a small burger stand for something to eat, you agree. It’s dark out, and you’ve been walking all day with him, so you’re fairly ravenous. He assures you that the food is tasty and that you won’t be disappointed.

As you walk along, he moves his arm to rest on your waist in a gesture to share warmth, and you’re glad for it. You approach the burger stand. He leans over to press his lips to your forehead, but as he does, a tall, dark man suddenly enters the picture that had been empty before.

You can’t see his features all that clearly, but from the way he sounds, he seems as if he’s been taking something funny. Man, the stranger says, that’s so beautiful, man. That’s like undeniable love, man. But as soon as he’s appeared, he’s disappeared again. There’s no trace of him save for the wondering if he was ever really there in the first place.

While you stand there, rooted to the spot on the sidewalk in the almost dark and slightly cold, you’re not quite sure how you should feel.

Second Kind

It’s a few days later, and you’ve been out in the city with him again. This time, however, you’re on a bus back home, weary from walking miles to nowhere. After you plop down in your seat, you lean against him and try to ignore the woman behind you who is talking to herself. She could be on a bluetooth headset, but judging from the way she’s dressed and the phrases she says, she probably isn’t.

You settle yourself in for a long ride back and can’t help but listen to what the woman mutters. She mentions terrorists for some reason, and you wonder why. You tilt your face up and kiss your companion-who-is-more-than on the cheek, and when he goes to do the same, the woman growls, Watching people suck face is disgusting. Unsettled, you simply lay your head on his shoulder, hoping that this will appease the woman and that maybe her stop is next.

It isn’t. A few stops down, she is still behind you. You have been mostly ignoring her, but when she exclaims suddenly, You will never survive, asshole, you have too many enemies, you feel your pulse begin to race. Who is this woman and what does she want? Who is she talking to? You? Nobody? You calm yourself down, and the woman seems to do the same.

The bus has driven down the road for a few minutes that seem longer than they should be when it stops, and you hear the woman behind you shuffle to disembark. Die, you faggot filth, she proclaims before crossing the aisle and stepping onto the sidewalk. The doors close, and you both let out a shaky laugh. You realize a moment later that there is now a girl behind you, and she’s talking about the muttering woman. After you turn around to see the girl, the two of you start a conversation with her and her friend.

It was bizarre, you all say.

I thought she was going to hurt me, the girl says.

Third Kind

Like the last encounter, you are on the bus back home, again leaning on your multi-dimensional person. There do not seem to be any tall, dark men or crazy women, and you are relieved. You drift in and out of consciousness, relaxed and worn-out. Before long, you hear a man talking to an acquaintance across the bus aisle.

I have to go to the QFC, the man explains. I can’t go to the QFC on the left, because they don’t have the cellphones I like, so I have to go to the one on the right.

Realizing that he’s probably not going to have any interesting sort of conversation, you drift back out. After a while, however, his voice filters back into your mind.

Look at them, he says to his friend. See those two? She’s gorgeous, and so is he. They’re beautiful. God made us to love each other.

Suddenly, there is a quiet whisper in your ear: I think he’s talking about us.

You nod to agree, and are almost afraid to move for the almost absurd reason that’s just crossed your mind. If this man wants to talk about the both of you as you are now, then why not stay that way and let him talk?

He gets off the bus soon enough anyway, and you eventually fall asleep.

Third Kind: Redux

A few days later, the two of you are in a park that overlooks the bay. You’re not doing much of anything, just walking around and enjoying the sunset. A man catches your attention, and you recognize him as the QFC man.

That’s cool, man, he says, nodding. That’s cool.