The alien head turned around and held out a hand, “Hey, I’m Marielle.”
“Oh,” I switch my phone to my left hand and shake hers, “Dan. I’m Dan.”
All I can see are her eyes through slits in the mask, but they seem to crinkle up, so I assume she reciprocated my meek smile. The people lined up behind me shift, checking their watches and phones for the hundredth time that hour. I instinctively glance down at my phone which reads 6:42am.
“Only eighteen more minutes until the doors open.” Marielle’s voice, slightly muffled, echoes my thoughts.
“You hyped?” she asks.
“I’ve only been waiting for this for the last year. I’m also surprising my brother with a copy, we used to play a lot together, but he moved away,” I reply, shifting from foot to foot.
“Same!” she giggles. “My bro got me into it, but now I’m a bigger fan than he is. I’d do anything for a copy.”
A man twice my age is lounging in a lawn chair near the front of the line. Man, I thought I got here early, apparently 5:00am isn’t good enough. Marielle starts chatting up the group in front of her, a horde of fighters who’d previously been pretending to shoot each other with air blasters. I’m wearing a navy-blue hoodie and a matching ballcap, the game’s logo splashed across both. I shift between my feet again, tapping my phone in my hand.
“Chill Dan. Chill.” Marielle turns around, “The doors will open. Even if I have to break them down myself.”
“I just really have to pee,” I respond sheepishly.
“Ah, rookie mistake. Always go before,” she scolds.
“I did!” I retort.
“I’ll save your spot. Duck into that café on the corner,” she suggests, nodding her alien head down the street. I hesitate, glancing between her and my sweet relief.
Finally, I release a breath, “Okay. Thanks,” and step out of line, walking at a brisk pace.
When I return a tall guy with a buzz-cut stands in my place, Marielle clutching his arm. The dude isn’t even wearing any fan-gear.
“Hey,” I say, “thanks for holding my place Marielle.” I try to step back in line. The guy blocks my path. “Sorry, Dan,” Marielle sing-songs, “this is Allen, I’ve been trying to get him a spot for the last half-hour.” I freeze. “He can go in front of me,” I say, shrugging.
“Hell no. Nobody’s budging,” the guy who’d seen me standing in front of him for the last two hours adamantly states. Great. That’s when the clock rolls over to 7:00am and the double doors fly open. Like a centipede the line-up scurries in. I’m left standing on the curb in the biting morning air. My phone starts ringing, the ringtone ironically being the theme song of the game. I pick up on the first ring. “Hey little bro, I got you a copy of the game. I’ll ship it over soon.” My brother’s words are music to my ears. “Apparently, the aliens are extra vicious in this version.”
I pause. “So I’ve discovered.”
