My tail is tucked awkwardly in my jeans, taped to leg for security. This is so I don’t draw attention in public and I’m not wearing my cap that says ‘Your Brand Here’ on it right now, I lost it, and everybody in this train car can see the twin horns protruding from my skull. I get looks but so far today nobody has accused me of being an extradimensional creep. Maybe I should dye my hair something other than red. Maybe I should start wearing a cool jacket.
Hell was uncomfortable in a familiar way. But I’m vacationing this year. So, the discomfort has some novelty. I have been worrying I will do something incorrect without knowing I have been behaving incorrect. Maybe this is normal for tourists. Maybe the reason our planes are separate is because they should be. In some important and intrinsic, essentialist way. I wonder if they can feel my home on me, see it, smell it? Will my accent give me away?
I’m standing in the middle of the carriage holding onto a yellow pole. I do so because I don’t want to be propelled forward onto someone else’s body as the vessel navigates its rocky voyage. There’s a boy with his family in the seat in front of me. He’s smiling at me. I smile back because I’m meant to and I’m glad I don’t have large or serrated fangs because people don’t. I don’t want to stand out more than I already do. The Internet has been a helpful when it comes to fitting in but I have made some faux pas. When I typed “reasons a human being would have horns in everyday life” into ‘Google’ I learned that some humans have something called Cutaneous horns which are actually skin tumours that resemble horns. But when the lady at Safeway asked me, “What are those things on your head?” and I responded with “They’re malignant keratin mounds,” she just looked confused even after I tried to say I was kidding. I don’t go to Safeway anymore.
An artificial female voice says “Next stop: Beckley. Please mind the gap when alighting.” That’s my stop, so I approach the doors and wait. I realize I won’t see the boy who smiled at me ever again. I always realize this when I come across a stranger who is friendly to me. I couldn’t be friends with this boy, he’s like eight and that’s weird. I really wouldn’t like to be weird. But maybe I could have said what I imagine someone personable would say to him which is: “Hey, what’s up little man?” And he would have grinned and maybe said ‘hi’ or waved back. But this is my stop and the doors open and I walk out.