#five art

A slight snore from the alien on his couch grabbed Elliott’s attention. He decided that the prudent course would be to walk on by. After all, the alien - Five, he wanted to be called for some unknown reason - had threatened to melt his brain only hours before. And if there was anything that Elliott knew to be true, it was don’t mess with aliens.  

Then, a small shiver ran through the alien’s form. Elliott startled for a second, but only one. Somewhere deep in his brain, he noted that shivering was a very... human thing to do. Something that any human boy would do. 

Any very cold and exhausted human boy.

A sudden pang of sympathy, followed by a stronger pang of empathy ran through Elliott. 

Five was alone. Elliott certainly knew what that felt like. The day his wife left… he didn’t think he would ever get over the emptiness.  

In a fit of bravado, Elliott put down his coffee and grabbed a blanket off the nearby chair. Gingerly, he draped it over Five’s shoulders. He stepped back quietly and paused, waiting for a reaction, but there was none. 

Grabbing his coffee, Elliott smiled slightly as he tiptoed away.