It was an ordinary day, the kind of day that even you’re grandparents don’t even want to hear about. Nothing spectacular should have happened that day, however, time can be rewritten. So instead of my normal Tuesday (that would have brought me to a normal life of being a nurse) that was the day I met someone who would change the course of my life irrevocably.
Walking home after school with my little sister and brother holding each of their hands as they bickered back and forth in their twin speak was one of my least favorite chores. However since my mother had pointedly informed me that it was one of my official chores I did the task without much real argument. I swear the oldest child gets the worst chores, shouldn’t that be the other way around? The youngest should have the worse, and the oldest should get first pick. No, instead I’m stuck taking out the stinky garbage and in charge of cleaning the bathroom. C’est la vie.
Nearing our home I had had enough of the made up language, “So what homework do you have to get through today?”
Clara rolled her eyes, “Kindergarteners don’t get homework.”
“We have to finish coloring our pictures,” Christopher argued immediately after.
“Well yes, there’s that,” Clara added, “for those who didn’t get done during school today.”
She made a face at Chris, but before I could comment a pod that looked like a miniature Death Star appeared out of nowhere. In a ball of fire it crashed into the street and out rolled a guy covered in soot and ash. From a jacket pocket he produced what appeared to be a fog horn. He pressed some buttons on the side of the contraption and out spewed fire retardant. The odd boy started to circle the wreckage until he seemed satisfied with some unknown result. Finally, speaking to no one in particular, he laughed,“I thought we’d never come back from that one.”