a cure for the common block


Young Tim paused for a moment to consider the mailman’s answer; he made a good point: if he were an alien, why would he spend all day delivering mail? At this point Tim’s mother came out and pulled him inside, apologizing to the postal worker, Mr. Jeffers. She gave a stern lecture about accusing people of being aliens just because they looked differently and Tim apologized to him the very next day. What his mother didn’t realize was that Tim knew a girl in his class who had the same condition as Mr. Jeffers, that wasn’t what made him suspicious; it was the hint of a purple stain he saw through the back of his sock one day, on an area covered by a bandage the next day, making him suspect it was blood. The idea faded over the weeks and months, especially with the absence of any other signs of alien invasion, and as Tim grew into adulthood it would only come to mind as a fleeting memory of his active boyhood imagination… until the day he caught a glimpse of a similar stain beneath a bandage under his boss’ cuff, a man with the same apparent skin condition as Mr. Jeffers and the girl in his class.

#ShortShortStories #Lessons


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