I WASN'T BORN FOR LOVIN'!

     ❝ I WISH I had an answer, but I just don’t know. ❞

     HOW STRANGE, he ponders, that life in some distant tendril of the galaxy would look so eerily like him: some design of evolution, some unknown facet of science, but there is no denying that he has an almost identical physiology to that of the long gone human race.  If he did not acknowledge the sheer impossibility of it, he might have even assumed that he was one of them.  He, likewise, resembles the current inhabitants of this planet, but not to the extent that he is the ( almost ) spitting image of a human being.  ❝ It’s just a coincidence, ❞ he explains, sitting up and wincing as a vibrant flash of pain shoots through his innards and up his spine: he has had a rather traumatic crash, and if not for his fiery-haired savior, he does not think he would have survived.  ❝ A very strange coincidence. ❞

          "At least a few hundred years,” he answers, pouring the excess from the cup down the drain, then adding, “maybe a little over that." 

          He crosses from the kitchen to the living room, where his… alien guest rested on the pull-out couch. He comes to stand beside the bed--his own bed--and offers the water, and something else in a loosely enclosed fist.