I stared at him...for too long. He had an awkward smile on as he spoke. I could tell he was trying his best not to offend me. I grabbed his name from the name tag on his pharmacist coat. It read Angel.

ANGEL

Is there something I can help you with? 

You've been a bit quiet. If you need more time--

ANA

No, it's okay. I will take this.

     I push the pill bottle in front of him. He rang it up quick. I didn't want the moment to end. A thousand thoughts hit my head, but none left my mouth. I wanted to say anything to make this time last longer.

ANA

Such a white coat.

     He looked at me confused. I don't blame him.

ANGEL

Yup, it's a pharmacist coat, and that's 

what I am, a pharmacist. Working here.

     He never looked me in the eye, and his cheeks turned red. At the time, I didn't know what that meant. I do know; he was so adorable.

ANGEL

So you're a trucker?

ANA

Huh?

     He pointed at my hat when he said this. I stood there frozen. I wasn't a trucker. I mean, did technically come here to haul goods back to my planet. He didn't know that, though. He was trying to make a joke about my hat. Apparently, it's called a trucker hat.

     Of course, I didn't know that, so I stared at him for too long. The line behind me of an old lady and a teen just stared at us, too embarrassed for us to intervene. I picked up my bag and left. Never looking back.

     There was no way I could recover from that. Still, my mission was done. I went back to my ship and made a dark discovery. My ship's engines were damaged in the crash; it can't fly, and I have no idea how to fix them. So I turned on the beacon and radioed back to my planet.

     Thats when they laid it on me. The ship they sent me on was the only one able to make space travel fast enough to reach Earth from our planet. Without it, the trip would take years. The time difference was so massive that they decided it would be faster to build their own ship. Still, they couldn't give me a timeframe of how long it would take as my ship was the first of its kind.

     I was stranded here for who knows how long. Selfish but necessary.

    I went to purchase six times to buy medicine. All I need is one bottle, but I kept going back. I bought different pills, syrups, and tablets so he wouldn't think I was crazy. Maybe at best, a hypochondriac.

     I needed to switch it up, so I would go in for snacks or pretend I had a question, all so I could get a sentence out of him. With each interaction, we would add more to what we say. I learned his name, favorite candy in the store, not to take more than the recommended dose, and any topic if it meant I could speak with him for a little longer.

     He had this trait where he would always look you in the eye. In the beginning, it was endearing, but it got a bit creepy. I told him once, and his face turned bright red, something I learned many humans do when embarrassed or as a sign of affection. I knew what I had to do.

     On my sixth visit, I finally plunged the knife and asked him out for coffee. Ignoring the reason I was on this planet. Selfish but necessary.

     That was the first of many nights. We took steps into each other's lives. It took a while for me to assimilate here. Even how I speak was jarring to hear. I know English, but my language is vastly different. From the shapes our mouths make, our second tongue makes it different.

     He didn't care. We worked together, and he undertook the arduous learning of my language. I told him I was from a small country he was unfamiliar with, and Angel bought it. He is fluent, it hurts my ears hurt hearing it at times, but he knows. I was always better at adapting to his culture. Then came the questions.

     He wanted to know where I was from. The lies I told him kept building, and it was clear he didn't believe them. The problems grew as I never could understand the minute details of how society worked on my own.

     I thought he was gaolable, but he just had faith in me. I was taking advantage of that. It needed to stop.

      I brought him to the motel I was staying at on 12th street, room 34. It has a single bed with a tacky carpet and wallpaper chipping away. At least the shower stayed warm for the first 30 seconds and had a working tv.

ANA

So this is where I've been the whole time.

ANGEL

You've been living in a motel this whole time?

ANA

It's a hotel.

ANGEL

No, this is a motel.

ANA

The sign says hotel out front.

ANGEL

It's a motel, trust me.

ANA

Is there a difference?

ANGEL

Yes.

     He looked around the room to get an idea of how my life was. It didn't have a kitchen, only a microwave. Coupled with house cleaning didn't make daily trips, so my Togo containers were stacked in the trash can.

ANGEL

Why didn't you tell me? You could 

have stayed with me.

ANA

I...have my reasons.

ANGEL

I..I get it if you still want to keep things to yourself. 

I do. It's just that those things are putting pressure on you.

 I mean, if they are making life harder, I want you to 

know you can come to me. I care about you.

ANA

It's a lot. I mean, I don't even think you will 

believe me. If you do, I will get it if you don't trust me.

     He responded in my own language. The pronunciation grated my ears, but the thought and feeling he put came off. He said, 

ANGEL

I am here for you. No matter what.

     I took a deep breath, whipped the fried chicken crumbs off the bed, and sat him down. I showed him who I truly was, my journey. Of course, he took it hard. I think it was more the fact I lied to him than what I was. 

     He was bothered by how I spent the last few months living in a motel, and he kept asking to see my second tongue, but he accepted me. I think he was relieved to find out I wasn't hoarding pills or reselling them.

     Then came the morning.