Young Grasshopper 1

Hi. My name is Angel.

I’m not really sure how to describe myself. Just regular old me. I have a job that takes up all my time; flying back and forth between places running errands for the higher ups. Mostly fetching food from the fields. I mentioned flying, right? I can fly; wings and everything. Humans would say I most resemble a grasshopper, but I say I mostly resemble a human. I’m not either; I’m part of a race that lives alongside humans and grasshoppers without sight or sound. Pretty cool, right?

It can be a bit repetitive actually, but it’s not so bad. Passing between the city’s buildings looking at others’ lives can be interesting. Like the baker at 5th and Corner, he just married the daughter of his best customer (he visits everyday wearing a fine suit). The banker on Douglas bought a new car to fit her new lifestyle (stocks were up). Not to mention him.

I first saw him a month ago, walking down the street. What caught my eye was the top of his head, mainly his hair. Understand, I see the tops of heads many times throughout the day, but his was different. He dyed his hair blonde, a dusty blonde that offset his skin tone like the field dust does over the setting sun. I quickly found he walked the same route every day at the same time, which conveniently matched with my route. After lunch he walks to a big building containing several companies, any of which I felt suited him as the career oriented young man he most obviously was.

He didn’t know I existed, but from then on he became the most important existence to me. My life was a planet and he was the sun. I didn’t know his name but decided Dusty suited him. Infatuation I had never experienced so I knew not how to control it. It pained me he could never hear or see me, but it served as a blessing in this instance, allowing me to fly low and close without notice. Every day I examined every inch of him, learning his tiniest quirks and habits. I even noticed a slight limp one day and fretted the rest of the week till it disappeared.

My kind doesn’t fall in love. On the very rare occasions it is brought up it is discussed in a matter akin to something alien, not of our world. We don’t marry and raise a family. We are born, but not in the traditional sense. There are no families save one: our entire race. We have no hearts to give a single person because our existence is solely dedicated to preserving and strengthening the already existing family, not starting our own.

So to find myself in love quite disturbed them.

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