by Kelly Haworth
My first kiss was not normal. It wasn't under the bleachers, or in the back of my car, or in the halls at school. It was in a deserted house, with my parents still at work and with tears wetting his iridescent face. His eyes had turned purple and he told me he was going to kill himself. So I kissed him. What else could I have done?
We didn't tell anyone about us. Gossip would spread like oil over water if a human and an Argati even held hands. So we stole kisses in empty bathroom stalls, my fingertips running over new scabs on his wrists. We hung out after school, and shut the door.
He would say things that made no sense, that made me want to know more. "Reality hangs between infinity and nothing. The strings that hold us together form a weave that keeps reality suspended." He tugged on the strings of my soul, tugged me toward him. I stumbled into his arms.
How do you define humanity when an alien race has their own life and morals, their own Argatity, if it will? When red means calm and blue means excited? How do you define attraction when biology dictates one thing and you do another?