Jane turned off the TV and looked out the window, just to make sure it was still there. She knew that it would be, but Jane had some type of affinity for it that made looking hard to resist. It hung low in the sky, its chin dragged along the horizon. Jane wondered if at some point its chin did touch the ground. If its wrinkled skin would leave an impression on the earth like her fingerprints did the glass. Jane had never gone closer toward it than the window in her kitchen, so there was no guarantee it wasn’t simply floating thousands of miles in the air.

It looked at Jane then, as though it knew she was thinking about it, which was really idiotic to think as everyone in the area, no, the world, was probably thinking about it, too. Jane was just unlucky enough that she could stand and do the dishes and look into its eyes from her very own home. She knew for sure there would be someone out there who would swap homes if she asked. Jane wasn’t sure if she wanted to; oddly, she liked the consistency with which it watched her habitual dishwashing.

Its eyes were just like hers: blue.

And tired.

Was there a reason it had to be tired? Jane grew tired from work, home, and living in general, but all humans experienced the burnout that accompanied existing. But it…what did it have to be tired of? Existence as well, possibly.

Jane’s friends—who were lucky enough to have bought their homes two suburbs further away from it—had told her that it slept at night, much like she did. Once Jane had heard that, she refused to look out the window at night. In fact, Jane’s favourite time to do the dishes used to be at night time, so she could watch the stars crawl as she did so. Now, she did the dishes just before dusk. Looking at it was horrifying enough during the day; Jane didn’t think she’d sleep ever again if she saw the stars shining between its teeth.

Another helicopter rattled the bones of her home as it flew past, dangerously low and packed full of faceless soldiers. Jane wasn’t sure exactly where they went as she avoided finding out how close or, hopefully, far it may be. She believed everyone was idiotic for being so fascinated with what was essentially a larger version of themselves plastered in the sky. Jane believed she was the only sane person around here! Yes, she was uninterested in a human face whose mouth was large enough to eat her planet like an apple. And everyone should be!

Jane looked away from it, being the first to break eye contact as per usual. If it had a body or hands, it possibly would have grabbed her. Instead, Jane relished in the feeling of superiority as she closed the curtain and stomped away, knowing she’d open it again in tomorrow.