I look good on paper, in stories, in pictures. You want me, you do, you need me, you love me. But that’s not me man, that’s just your idea of me. The truth might be scary or mundane, but for whatever reason once you got me, you don’t know what the fuck to do with me.

I got what you need, I always did. I got me a microscope and a log, and some decent math skills. I get it, even though these organisms haven’t evolved higher thought, and never had mouths to speak.  

When we kiss my skin runs from your lips. When you go, I never want you to leave, and I can’t wait until you do, so I can be alone.

‘This thing, I must keep it, I must hold it, I must know that it can be mine’, but  what do you do with it once it’s in your hands? Nothing. 

Short story idea inspired by my current reading:

An alien species has been monitoring our development by means of an advanced scanning device on a orbital path through our solar system that takes approximately three-quarters of each of our centuries. A recent visit found that our planet had learned powered flight and the ability to transmit audio signals, necessitating closer study.

This closer study was amplified with advances in flight, power, the study of physics, and the construction of artificial satellites. The team of observers can only keep track of so much on the surface but realize that the next scheduled return of their scanner may be detected by the more advanced scientific equipment, including any equipment that may be put in orbit just prior to its next pass-by by the recently launched space shuttle program.The observers must then do anything within their power to stop the space shuttle tasked with deploying a new satellite specifically to study their scanner, masquerading as a comet.