“Hey, Sarah,” Abigail said, walking briefly through the dining room to get to the living room, where she’d left her hairbrush.

“Morning,” Goreth said.

Peter, who was sitting at the table with us, smirked in our direction.

Abigail stood in the middle of the living room and brushed her hair, then smiled and absently wandered to the bathroom.

“You know, I’m pretty sure half of her has had a crush on Sarah for quite some time,” Peter said quietly, bringing his coffee to his mouth to take a sip, hiding part of his expression. His eyes told Goreth that he was saying everything in good humor, though.

“Yeah, I think I picked up on that, too,” Goreth said. “Totally OK with it if you are.”

“Absolutely,” Peter put his cup down and started in on his omelet.

Goreth was about to finish their peanut butter toast, but paused to say, “We’ve been talking about safety protocols and such. You know, in case we have another emergency or crisis.”

“Yeah?” Peter looked up.

“You did really well that night. We’re so grateful,” they said.

“I’m glad,” Peter replied.

“And, we think, we’ve just got to reiterate what we’ve worked out before, for the most part,” Goreth said. “Like, maybe don’t bring up calling anybody, if you can avoid it. That seems to trigger Sarah when she’s not fully conscious, you know?”

Peter grimaced and said, “I get that.”

“But the place you’ve got picked out, just in case we really need that, is still as OK as it gets.”

“OK.”

“Don’t ever take us there,” Goreth stated clearly.

“I’m not sure –”

“Do not,” Goreth speared Peter with a stern glare.

“Hmm,” Peter growled.

“We’ve got a couple of frighteningly powerful aliens as part of our psyche now, Peter,” Goreth reminded him. “Neither of us want to see what happens if they try to help us while we’re in confinement in a psych ward. And I don’t think humanity does, either.”

“Ah.”

“On the other hand,” Goreth said. “I think they can help us when we get in a bind. Like they help you help us. Like how that all worked out in the end.”

“That was really fucking scary and weird, though,” Peter said.

“So I’m told.”

“I don’t know about this,” Peter intoned. “I am required by law –”

“Look, I know, but there’s something that both Phage and Ashwin have shown us that they can do, if you’re worried about us having some sort of mental crisis, that both Sarah and I have agreed to,” Goreth said. “I think it will really help. It’s better than taking medicine.”

Peter ate some of his omelet and watched us while he chewed for a bit, and then said, “I’m listening.”

“They can both, to varying degrees, regulate the neurotransmitters in our body. And a couple other things,” Goreth said. “Ashwin is good at reducing pain and exhaustion for a couple hours. And Phage can dampen our emotions, especially panic and maybe even stop an autistic meltdown.”

Peter sat up straighter and raised an eyebrow, “Shit. They can really do that?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re OK with that,” Peter asked.

“More than OK,” Goreth said. “It doesn’t alter who we are or the way we think. But it sure as hell takes the edge off our disabilities.”

“Damn,” Peter said, looking around at the room like he hadn’t seen it before. Turning back to us, he then asked, “Do you think they can help you with your sensory issues, too? You know, so you can eat your vegetables more often?”

Goreth leaned back in our chair and laughed, “Maybe. Maybe.”

“Because, you know,” Peter said. “That could maybe help with a lot of other things.”

“Yeah, that’s sort of the plan already,” Goreth said. “Like, Ashwin is doing what they can to let us keep eating bacon and other meat, but it really, really grosses nem out. And we feel that, you know.”

“Oh, weird.”

“Yeah. So, anyway, if we eat meat less, we really need to eat a wider variety of food. And maybe now we can,” Goreth explained. “We’re trying it out. Seeing if it helps. Really mixed results so far. We’re still autistic. Gotta go slow, you know.”

“Right, right.”

“You’re still not on our Patreon,” Goreth said.

“Well, you know, I help you out here and I don’t want to pry into your social media, right?” Peter responded.

“Sure,” Goreth said. “Just, I forget you don’t see some of the things we share because of that. We did a reaction video of Ashwin exploring the zoo the other day. And you should probably see it. Want me to send it to you?”

Peter picked up his coffee and looked at it, “You know what? Sure.”

“It’s goofy.”

“Sure.”

“We walked all over the zoo that day. No scooter. Hardly used the cane,” Goreth said.

“Really?” Peter perked up.

“Yeah. You’ll see it in our face in the video. It’s amazing,” Goreth admitted. “It might take us a while, but we’re hoping we can start working again.”

Peter let out a sigh of genuine relief and flashed a closed mouth smile at us, and nodded a little, “That’s really, really cool. Maybe take your time on that, though. Make sure you’ve got yourselves all coordinated and on the same page, right?”

“That’s the plan,” Goreth said.

Peter patted us on the shoulder a couple times and said, “I’m looking forward to seeing what you all do next.”

“Well,” Goreth said. “Right now? It’s off to our weekly meeting with the gang! Aunti Zero’s needs their weirdos.”

“Oh, yeah. You’ve got everything with you for that, too,” Peter said. And then half pointed in the direction of our bedroom, “But your cane?”

Goreth grinned, getting up, gathering our purse and coat, and walking toward the door, to turn and shake our head once, “Don’t need it today.”

Peter opened his mouth and blinked.

“If I need a ride home, I’ll call,” Goreth said. “It’ll be weird and notable, because we usually text, so you’ll definitely notice.”

Peter chuckled.

We also didn’t take our backpack. We wanted to go light, just in case we got tired after all.

—

We’d waited outside for our friends to show up, so we could go inside to the counter with them and show off our unhindered walking.

The Murmuration was the first to get there, which was unusual. And, by the time they got there we’d decided we could just tell Erik and maybe do a little dance once he came to our table.

“Watch this,” we said to the Murmuration as they approached from the bus stop, leaning on their cane. We stood up, held our hands up in the air, and did a little spin, then jumped to the door and opened it for them. “Notice anything?”

“Where’s your cane?” Rräoha asked.

We blinked, “You’re fronting! You know about our cane?”

“Yes. They tell me everything,” the Monster replied. We could see gem was not alone in the front.

“Been wanting to ask you,” I took over clearly and said, as I gestured for them to enter. “You’re a Monster, right? How did you get through the Tunnel?”

Rräoha sneered like a Ktletaccete as best as gem could with the human body, and said, “Phage’s gift.” Gem nodded as gem took the Murmuration through the door of the cafe. “I would have accepted the nanite terminal to do it. I wanted to follow you. But Phage told me I wouldn’t need it, and I did not.”

“I’m glad you are here,” I said.

“I am not so sure, myself,” gem replied.

“Understandable.”

As we approached the counter, Rräoha asked, “So. Again. What about your cane?”

“Yes, what happened to your cane?” Kate asked from behind the counter.

Goreth shrugged and said, “Don’t need it! Not today, at least.”

“Ah, but it’s so beautiful!” Kate said.

“Maybe we can have it,” Rräoha said. “If you do not need it.”

“It’s too tall for you,” Goreth said.

“We will cut it down.”

“No,” Goreth and Kate said simultaneously.

“Very well,” Rräoha smirked.

“Well, what can I get you tw –” Kate looked back and forth between us and then asked, “How many of you are there today, anyway?”

I looked at the Murmuration and then at ourselves, then back at the door where Erik was not walking through it, and said, “One hundred fifty-two.”

“Jesus!” Kate exclaimed.

I turned back with a brighter smirk than Rräoha had had, and said, “There will be more someday.”

Kate looked suitably impressed, but said, “It seems like there’s always more.”

“Happens,” Rräoha replied.

“Well, what can I get you hundred and fifty-two?” Kate asked.

“One of those big round things for me,” Rräoha pointed at the display case. “And some heated formula with tea and sugar.”

“So, cinnamon roll and a cambric?” Kate confirmed.

“Yes.”

I leaned over to the Murmuration and said under our breath, “They tell you everything?”

“I don’t always listen,” Rräoha replied.

I think we should just let you two talk for a while, Sarah thought. You’re both funny.

“And you?” Kate asked us.

“I’d like my favorite,” I said. “And a salt bagel with cream cheese on it.”

“Ooh, branching out?” she asked.

I shook our head, “We had one when you weren’t here the other day, and I am hooked on the salt now.”

She chuckled, “OK. So, together or separate?”

“We are paying,” Rräoha stepped forward.

“Really?” I asked on behalf of Sarah and Goreth.

“We work. You do not. Money is terrible,” drawled the Monster, pulling out the Murmuration’s card purse.

“Think that might be changing soon,” Goreth managed to say around me.

Sticking the card into the reader, Rräoha turned to us and asked, “What change? The work or that money is terrible?”

“Us working,” Goreth said. I nodded.

“Interesting,” Rräoha said. “Not what I would choose. Money should be less terrible.”

“You all can sit down if you like,” Kate said. “I’ll bring these out to you.”

“You are kind,” Rräoha told her.

“Not at all!” Replied Kate, cheerfully. “I’m actually a terrible person!” She grinned, and shooed us away with her hand.

“I think you are very good at being a person,” Rräoha said.

Kate waved a finger at gem and said, “Ah! Ah! We don’t put up with that kind of language in this establishment.”

Rräoha looked confused, and I said, “Come on, let’s go sit down. You’ve stumbled upon her Art, and you will not win.”

“OK.”

Kate tittered and then went about making our drinks.

We went to our customary table, which was right in front of the door. The cafe was not terribly busy today for some reason, so we could have sat in a number of other places, but Erik, the Murmuration, and Sarah and Goreth had always liked being right in the center of things, because they could do that here. And I didn’t see any reason to change that.

“Tell us about this work you intend to do,” Rräoha said, as we sat down.

“We don’t know what it’ll be yet,” I said, shrugging like a human. “Our body still has a lot of healing to do. But, also, we don’t know what will be available, or who will hire us. In the meantime, Sarah and Goreth are going to focus on their art and writing. Maybe try to write a book. Sarah’s working on an art show for here, too.”

“Ah.”

“But, the two of them also do miss having coworkers, so it’s a long term goal to at least get a part time job somewhere,” I said. “Who knows. Maybe here?”

“I would not even choose to work here. It is a nice place, but you speak of work,” Rräoha said.

“Fair. True. But Kate would be a fun coworker.”

“Agreed.” Gem looked around, “Where is the other one?”

“Erik?” I asked, just as both our phones buzzed.

We both looked at our phones at the same time.

It was Erik texting us to say, “Shit! Shit! Shit! I spaced! I’m with Beau for the day! Sorry!”

“You say his name and he messages us,” Rräoha observed.

“Coincidence,” I said.

“I have been seeing too many coincidences on this world,” Rräoha said.

I nodded, but said, “I can’t figure out if that’s because of what we are, here with Phage, or if it’s because of parallel evolution, or just these brains messing with our memories, honestly.”

“After our encounter with the Dancer, I would have expected other Outsiders to be too bizarre to describe,” Rräoha said.

“It could just be that physics leads to very similar solutions to things sometimes,” I said.

“I do not buy it. Those are not the only coincidences I am noticing.”

“Probably Phage related then.” I decided to change the subject, “So, did you know that Erik’s boyfriend is named Beau?”

The Murmuration shook their head. “No,” said Rräoha.

“You know what he says when his social circles are ever in danger of touching,” Sarah interjected.

Louis, of the Murmuration, pushed forward to drone, “Don’t cross the streams.”

Sarah gave them finger guns.

“Ah,” I said. “Probably because of code switching.”

The Murmuration nodded.

“We are lucky to learn his boyfriend’s name,” I said.

“We’d learn it soon enough,” Sarah responded immediately. “He’s not that evasive. And, besides, Beau is plural, too. Right? He’s probably someone Erik can bring around to everyone.”

That made sense. That made a lot of sense.

I spent a moment observing Rräoha as gem fronted in the Murmuration.

Despite the fact that we didn’t know each other, and we were both in human bodies with human psyches, throwing around English idioms like we understood them, relying on headmates and residual memories to do this in any intelligible way, it was very comforting to be spending time with another Ktelteccete who was not currently a headmate.

We definitely had our differences, but not necessarily political ones. We had had such disparate life experiences before coming to this planet. And despite my enthusiasm for Sarah and Goreth healing and daydreaming about work again, Rräoha and I did seem to share sentiments about the state of the local culture and what it demands of its people.

Not that either of us were in any sort of place to demand better. Ethically, we could only assist our hosts in what they wanted to do.

And, at the moment, both Sarah and Goreth were feeling wistful about Erik’s boyfriend, wishing they had someone they could call a partner, too. So I found myself looking at Rräoha, wondering if we would end up being friends.

Not partners, just friends. My thoughts aren’t completely dictated by my headmates, even if I’m definitely influenced by them.

Sarah and Goreth had been friends with the Murmuration since they’d moved here to Portland. They’d followed Erik here from Washington, and had known him since the end of high school. The Murmuration had been one of those systems that had overheard them talking about plural stuff right here in Aunti Zero’s, and they’d become fast friends since.

The Murmuration was one of Aunti Zero’s oldest, most loyal regulars. Or, a hundred and forty eight of them, now.

But that old friendship didn’t necessarily mean I’d get along with Rräoha. Or that gem would get along with me. Our manners were very different, and while I understood gem on a fundamental level better than I’d ever understand a human, I still felt like I was reading gem wrong a lot of the time. Rräoha sounded like someone who was more skeptical than Peter and grumpier than Sarah, and I couldn’t tell if that was just gems default demeanor or gems reaction to me.

I was about to ask gem more about gems old life, or gems other impressions of Earth, to get a better idea of what kind of person gem was, when Goreth spoke up.

“I wonder if either of us will ever find someone like Beau,” the dragon said.

Brock took over the Murmuration, leaned back in their chair, made a face of concentration and said, “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, Hank.”

Goreth tilted our head down and looked at them sideways, “For someone who hasn’t had any T yet, you do a damn good Patric Warburton.”

Brock continued the voice, “You don’t want my life. What do I have to show for it? Metal plate in my chest, Vatican karate gorilla blood on my hands, and a foot locker full of manbro vials.”

Goreth dropped our forehead onto the table and broke out in giggles and snickers.

“Here are your drinks, children,” Kate said in a perfectly cheerful voice, arriving with a couple of mugs, placing them on the table beside our head, and pushing one toward the Murmuration. “I’ll be back with your pastries. Don’t headbutt the table too hard, please.”

“I think we’re both older than she is,” Goreth said, face still on the table, but turned to look at our friends.

Brock dropped the act and nodded, smirking softly, “Some of us are younger than her, so we don’t mind being called ‘children’. But then…”

“We’ve got a couple of ancient aliens in our heads,” Goreth finished for them.

“Yeah.”

Goreth sat up, “Eh. Barista’s prerogative. All her customers are children.”

“Damn straight you are,” Kate said, returning with our bagel and cinnamon roll. “And I love you, and I want you to do your homework!” Then she ruffled our hair and returned to her work behind the counter.

I sent Rräoha a look implying, I told you so.

Brock snorted.

“But seriously,” Goreth said, sitting up and sniffing my drink, a tall cup of heavily steeped Sky Between the Branches tea, and wrinkled our nose. “We’ve got a good chosen family. Peter and Abigail are rocks. And you and Erik have always been there for us. And we’ve got each other, too. But I still feel so damn lonely a lot of the time. I’ve never had a girlfriend, or boyfriend. Or personfriend. Anyone. We’ve never even dated, not once. Usually you’re supposed to do that in highschool or college, but we never figured it out.”

Brock shrugged, shaking their head, and looked about to say something when Rräoha pushed forward again to say, “I don’t know what dating is. But, I have found that if you want to have sex with good people, you have to go where the good people who want sex are and start talking to them. Or, if you want to have good conversation with good people, you go to where the good people who have good conversations are, and participate. Everything works itself out from there.”

Goreth looked at gem for several seconds and then said, “Well, I think we’ve got the conversation thing taken care of here.” Then they smiled and chuckled.

“Yes,” Rräoha said. “So, is it the sex you are looking for?”

“Not necessarily?” Goreth responded. I felt an emotional pain well up and soak through our heart and shoulders, as they thought about what they yearned for. “But physical affection, yes. Or just regular physical contact. More hugs, even. Humans need regular physical contact with each other, Rräoha. And if we don’t get enough, it hurts us. A lot. Our bodies need it.”

“I am sure it varies,” gem replied.

“Yes. Of course it does,” Goreth said. “Neurodiversity. But I know that, for us, we are not getting enough.”

Rräoha nodded and started picking apart gems cinnamon roll, “I believe you. Perhaps I am not the best one to give advice. I am sorry I blurted it out.”

“No, you’re good. It’s not bad advice. Just not… as complete as I think I need it to be, you know?” Goreth explained.

“Well,” Rräoha said, putting a strip of cinnamon roll into the Murmuration’s mouth and chewing on it and swallowing before speaking further. “I would explain the importance of patience, listening to people, and learning from those around you, but I am starting to feel the impatience that short human lives invoke.”

Goreth shook our head, “I can’t imagine living, what is it? Five hundred years or so?”

“For Monsters, in your years, it is that little, yes. Less, even. The average Ktletaccete body lasts around two hundred and fifty of our years. With nanite therapies, that can be extended a few more decades sometimes. With Phage’s gift, some time longer if the person wants.” Gem shook their head. “But those that become Ancestors, to live beyond the span of their vessel, can expect to exist for many Millennia.”

“I – shit. Ashwin is nodding,” Goreth said. “I wonder if humanity will ever achieve that.”

“I could not even begin to pretend to say,” Rräoha said. “Phage would be a better predictor.”

“Too many variables,” Phage spoke up.

Rräoha frowned, “Even for you?”

“I am the variables,” Phage said. “But I have never been an oracle.”

Rräoha snorted and said, “You’ve always liked to say contradictory things. I think it is how you keep people from calling you on your shit.”

“The truth works,” Phage said.

Rräoha laughed, glee in the Murmuration’s eyes, and pointed at our chest, looking us in the eyes, “You hear Mau speak? That’s the Chief of Monsters. It is why I took the vow and rejected my nanites. I love it!”

Goreth tilted our head sideways and shook it, not sure what to make of that. I couldn’t help them. One of my best friends had been a Monster, and my system had had intimate relations with Phage itself, but the drive to become a Monster and shorten one’s life so dramatically while cutting oneself off from the Network completely was never anything I came to understand.

I grew up connected with a system of tens of thousands of other people. When I finally experienced privacy and my own autonomy, it was through the Network. I couldn’t have done it any other way.

I wondered how many Monsters have been plural. And if so, what were the sizes of their systems? It was such a profound decision, a life altering choice, you’d need unanimous consent to take it ethically. We Pembers would never have achieved it.

Goreth took a deep breath and let it out, taking a drink of my tea, and said, “Ashwin is giving me a lot of context and perspective now, but I don’t know how to process it.”

“That’s OK,” Rräoha said. “That’s the fun of living.”

“I suppose it is.”

And our conversation continued like that for a few hours. With Rräoha or I saying things that really could only make sense in the contexts of our lives before coming to Earth, and everyone else trying to catch up. But, at the same time, Goreth and Sarah both began to feel happy that they were spending so much ‘one on one’ time with the Murmuration, and felt like they were still connecting at a deeper level than they usually had before, despite the aliens dominating the table.

With the smiles and gleaming eyes of the Murmuration, I think maybe many of them felt the same way.

At one point, a lull in the conversation, Brock flicked a finger up and then rested their mouth against their closed fist, elbow on table, and said, “I’ve been thinking about something.”

“Yeah?” Goreth asked.

“The Tunnel Apparatus,” they said. “And Phage.”

Goreth nodded, “Go on.”

“After everything we’ve seen, with Rräoha in our system and all, too,” Brock said. “I don’t know how Erik will feel about this. But if we can destroy the technology without digging it up. Or we just can’t dig it up. I think I’ll be OK with that.”

“Yeah, same,” Goreth said.

But then, shortly after noon, it was way past the Murmuration’s bedtime and they decided they needed to go home.

We bid them a good week, and then stayed a bit longer, finishing our cold bagel and a refill of tea.

Kate then came over to our table and plopped down where the Murmuration had been sitting, and said, “I’m on break. How’ve you been?”

Goreth looked at her, lightly furrowing our brows and bobbing our head, “Getting better, actually.”

“That’s good!”

“Yeah. It’s,” Goreth poked at the last piece of bagel and then shoved it into our mouth, chewing. “It’s actually really amazing, honestly. I didn’t think our health would actually turn around like it has.”

“What was it that helped?” Kate asked. “Maybe my aunt could use the good news.”

“Well,” Goreth said, considering what to say next. “It might be that everything we’ve been dealing with has been somatic. Sorry. It’s kinda been mind over matter, and I know that doesn’t always work.”

“Ah, yeah. That’s still really cool, though!”

“OK, but.” Goreth remembered some of the conversations we’d had with her over the past month. “We are out to you about the real nature of Phage and Ashwin, right?”

“Psht! Yeah. They’re both my friends, Goreth.”

I nodded our head, though I couldn’t fully remember how much I’d talked to Kate before.

“OK, so,” Goreth leaned forward, “It might also be the result of alien psychic powers, actually.”

“No shit.”

“I don’t know how to believe it, myself,” Goreth said. “And I’ve seen them in action. I’ve felt it.”

“OK, like what?” Kate said, leaning back on her elbow on the table, settling in to listen.

Goreth pulled back a little bit and looked inwardly, asking under their breath, “Do we want to do a little demonstration here, or what?”

No, Phage thought very clearly.

“Ah, well,” Goreth said more loudly. “Worth a try. Anyway, they can do things like change how our body works. Or, and this is the freakiest thing, Ashwin can talk just by making the air vibrate. We have recordings and several witnesses, too.”

“Oh, that’s like Ghosthunters!”

“Well, kinda.”

“Did you put that up on your Patreon? Sorry I’m not a patron.”

“No, that’s fine,” Goreth assured her. “I have. Some of it.”

“Oh, so cool! I’d love to see one of the recordings.”

“Sure. I’ll send you one of them.”

“Thank you!” Kate said. “Well, I’ve gotta get back to work. I like talking to you all, Goreth. I’m glad you keep coming here.”

“Thank you,” Goreth said. “I don’t think there’s any danger of us going anywhere else. This place is home.”

Kate smiled and patted the table, before getting up and going back to the counter.

Soon, we found ourselves walking out the door to head home.

—

Two blocks from Aunti Zero’s, about to cross one of the bigger streets but still looking down at the ground lost in thought, we heard someone shout from the road, “Hey, Sarah! Hey! How’s it going?”

The voice was vaguely familiar, but I didn’t get any memories from Sarah or Goreth to place who it was.

Sarah looked up and squinted at the man in the Honda CRV who’d stopped to roll down his window. He looked like someone we could know, if he’d been dressed less like Peter and maybe had not been driving a car.

When he saw her fail to recognize him, he laughed and said, “It’s OK. It’s been so long! It’s me! Michael!”

Which Michael? Goreth thought.

But Sarah flooded us with memories of walking home with him after school nearly every day and playing Battletech with him.

She still didn’t really recognize him, though. The clothing, the car, the receding hairline, and the glasses were all wrong, and those were the kinds of things she and Goreth relied on, along with voice, for recognizing people. Faces were always unreliable. They changed so much over time, and could look too different to recognize in just a few months. And, maybe there was some other impairment to their ability to remember people. Not uncommon for autistics, really.

Also, he seemed to have lost a lot of weight, and that threw things off, too.

But after he’d said his name, his voice clinched it, and everything came back.

“Michael!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing in Portland?”

He shrugged, “I live here now.”

“Neat!”

“Yeah,” he looked up and down the road. “Listen, are you going somewhere? I could give you a ride.”

“Just home,” Sarah said. “It’s a few blocks away.”

“Have you had lunch? On me. We could catch up.”

Sarah considered it. Michael had been one of her and Goreth’s best friends in high school. Or, at least, they’d spent a lot of time gaming together, before she and Goreth had come out as trans. But they’d moved away before they could come out to him face to face, and they’d lost touch for a few years.

Recently, Michael had found them on Facebook and seemed really cool there. He had a wife and a couple kids, and was still making models for games. She hadn’t noticed he’d moved to Portland, though, because the damn platform had filtered their posts after a few years of interaction, and they just didn’t see much of each other online, and it was easy to forget the other person existed.

Except Michael had also subscribed to their Patreon, so he was up to date on some of their life, if he was paying attention to that.

Oh, yeah, Goreth thought. He’s actually one of our biggest contributors.

We’d had a bagel. It wasn’t really lunch, and we were feeling hungry. And, though we could walk home easily, our feet weren’t actually healed yet, and it would be better to go light on them.

It seemed like a good idea to take Michael up on his offer.

“Sure,” Sarah said, stepping out into the street and circling the small SUV to get to the passenger side. There was a “baby on board” sign in the back window, and a children’s car seat in the middle seats, with toys in it, but Michael was on his own, probably on his lunch break from work or something.

As she opened the freshly unlocked door, Michael said, “Actually, it’s not on the same level as your name change, but I like to go by Mike these days.” He shrugged, “Just feels more like me. Also, it’s shorter.”

Sarah laughed, and said, “Sure, Mike. I get that. Just don’t call me Sar.” And then she hopped up into the car and said, “Where should we go for lunch?”

“I was going to ask you,” he said.

The car smelled like stale milk, orange juice, cheddar blasted goldfish crackers, and vinyl polish. The interior was trimmed with fake wood paneling, something that reminded me of home. Though this material looked less carefully crafted than what I’m used to.

“Probably somewhere that doesn’t have just meat,” Sarah said, sighing.

“Oh, really? OK,” Mike replied. “I guess that rules out Doom Burger.”

Sarah held up a finger and said, “Hold on.” She turned her attention to me with a questioning emotion aimed right at me.

I relented and retreated.

“Let’s go to Doom Burger,” Sarah said.