When Jeremy woke up in that other world, he knew something was a little off, a little different, but did he recognize it as entirely other, entirely elsewhere? Not at all. He thought maybe it was a bar. A new dance he had not yet encountered. A new sense of décor that had not yet made itself appealing. A way of life that he hadn’t yet realized was the way of life of the world he inhabited. He had always been a step behind of the dances, a bar behind of the times, an infatuation behind what brought people joy. So, he assumed from his place on the bench overlooking the scene before him that maybe time had simply transpired in his world. It had been too long since his last excursion for him to notice the changes. He was however light years apart from the place he knew, not just fads apart. He was completely elsewhere. Connected to his home by just the slightest semblance of humanity. Sure, he thought, maybe humans act this way and I have merely failed to notice the steps that brought them here. Physically, you’ll have to admit, they weren’t far off from us. Legs and hair and the looks they gave each other. They could have easily passed for human, especially at human bars. But the things that moved them, the life they had designed for themselves, what made them smile; it wasn’t human at all, not in Jeremy’s understanding. It was completely alien. They littered. That’s what kept him wondering for longer than he should have. Of all species, could there be litterers other than humans? Was there anyone else who could so easily forget what had only seconds ago been in their hands? It seemed unlikely. He realized shortly after that thought that he had never really understood anyone at all, not even when he had really wanted to, not even when he had loved with every part of himself that, to his comprehension, had the capacity to love. But, then, what did understanding matter? Love did not rely on understanding someone else, not really, not in his experience, if he was honest about it. The moment that made him understand that he was entirely somewhere else was not an epiphany, nor a catharsis, nor momentous. It did not inspire the far off sounds of an orchestra, like in the movies. It was a simple sigh, a quiet, “Oh shit,” muttered to himself, as if he had been driving for far longer than he realized and suddenly found himself in a neighborhood that wasn’t his own. The music was what did it. Even if he didn’t at times particularly like Earth’s music, he always, always felt it, or could at least see what others felt in it. There’d be a beat, a line, a melody, just one speck of a moment where his heart would beat along, or an approving smirk would stretch his lips before he could tell his mouth that this was not Music He Listened To. But where he was, the music marked him off as hopelessly, desperately other. He couldn’t feel it at all. Not in his bones or his muscles or his lips. It didn’t reach a single fiber of his being. Every note died at his ears, like sperm in an infertile environment. This world was alien. Habitable, sure. Evidently. But not by him. That much was clear. This was not his world.
Tagged: bars.
