The Rules

Pretending to feel something you don't can often lead you to the real thing, in some form.

The trouble with rules, though, is that you'll always be tempted to break one- for the right reasons, due to unavoidable circumstances, because it feels as if there's no other choice. And once you break one, the rest seem like so much broken glass. The damage is already done.

No. Not a death wish. Just very little left to lose.

Reginald, the dog-bear," I repeated. "Or bear-dog," she reminded me. "That's terrible," I said in mock solemnity. "He's already not sure what he is- a dog, a bear... a bog..." She giggled. "And then you tag him with the name Reginald?" I shook my head.

My father always said never offer a choice if there's only one right answer

What was the point, I had to wonder, of fighting so hard to learn to protect my life if I was destroying it in the process?

It might have been my human side clamoring for blood, or my alien side looking for a chance to exercise strategic dominance over a lesser life form. Either way, I was going to win.

That was, in fact, my life. A whole series of reasonable lies.

So it turns out that late-night flashes of brilliance often look a little less brilliant in the bright light of morning.

So what did it matter where she came from? Who-or what-her parents were? Everyone's family was messed up in some way including my own. And she was still the same Ariane.

Most people didn't even think aliens really existed. And among those who did believe, "my" relatives had a bad rep. Little, gray and creepy. Known for cattle mutilations, abductions, and an extreme fascination with probing of all kinds. Not that any of those rumors were true, as far as I knew. Exept for the being little and gray-that bit was accurate, as far as I could tell, based on my own physiology and the Internet, of course.