Snapped this last week on route to visiting the grandparents. Who is this mysterious traveler? Is she a young author with a passion for fiction? Does she spend her days writing short, dream-inspired tales of alien freighters and besieged spaceports?
Is she single?
I imagine a desperate search spanning years, questing for a mate who shares a similar fascination with exploring the human condition through the infinite lens of our imagined futures beyond the solar system, culminating in the last ditch effort of advertising her love wherever the road takes her. Those soft blues eyes penetrate the long, wavy hair that she interrupts with a finger driven carefully behind her left ear. Those gently parted lips release a silent sigh as she exits her chariot and marches up the tall hallway to her lonely one-bedroom apartment. She turns on a desk lamp that ignites a nearby stack of 70's Whofleck-porn, setting herself to another nightly grind; pen, paper, and heart, working against sorrow in the hopes that a stranger will read and wonder.
One day, she thinks in her dark chest of abandoned hope, my other may see this and know.
I know, beloved soul-kin...I know.
"YOU'RE SCI-FI, TOO!?"