Author: Hillary Lyon

Kavon stood outside on the front porch watching swirls of red dust dancing down the empty highway in front of his store.

“You stay out much longer you’re gonna get windburned,” His wife, Mozie, called from inside. Kavon ignored her, shifting his gaze to the darkening sky overhead. The stars were coming out.

Thirty years ago, Kavon stood on this exact same spot and watched a huge circle of lights come into view overhead. A sparkling multicolored, silent carousel, as he would later describe it. He had the presence of mind to record a video of this event on his phone.

The circling lights stayed long enough for Kavon to yell to Mozie to bring her camera. She joined him, taking hundreds of photos. The lights hovered long enough for him to contact his neighbors. Half a dozen showed up and would later bear witness.

For several years after, Kavon’s Mini-mart & Gas Station was a destination for curious tourists and true believers. Then multiple sightings occurred across the planet, and Kavon’s spot was no longer special.

“Dinner’s getting cold!” Mozie shouted.

* * *

Kavon sat down at the kitchen table in their little apartment at the back of the Mini-mart. He salted his algae mush before even tasting it, something that annoyed Mozie, as salt was now rare and therefore expensive.

“You left the lights on in the store again,” she grumbled.

“Yep,” Kavon said stirring his mush. “You never know.”

As he lifted his spoon to his mouth a loud thump, followed by a knock at the store’s front door, stopped him before he could eat. He tossed his napkin down on the table. “See?”

The person waiting at the front door was tall, lanky, and sported long wheat-blonde hair. His blue eyes were enormous. Kavon waived him in.

The man looked around the shop, grinning. “This is the place of the first verified,” he said as he waved his hand in a circular motion, “aerial phenomenon?” Kavon noted the hand had three fingers and a thumb.

“Yes,” Kavon replied. He couldn’t place the customer’s odd accent, but it wouldn’t be the first time Europeans visited his store.

“This place is very—special—to my kind” the man said as he walked over to a shelf stocked with plush toys of green aliens.

The customer scooped up three plushies. “For my offspring,” he said. He placed the toys on the counter.

“Three Alien dolls at 12 bucks apiece, plus tax, comes to 40 dollars,” Kavon said.

“Dollars?” The customer asked as he opened the black bag slung across his chest. “No dollars…but,” he said retrieving a white bag the size of a grapefruit, tied with a silver cord, “precious salt from the dead ocean of Exotulla.” He untied the cord and opened the bag, “Taste.”

Kavon licked the tip of his finger and dipped it into the salt. On his tongue, the salt fizzed slightly and in his mind’s-eye, sparkled. The colors in his store became more vivid, the edges of everything sharpened, and he realized life was beautiful.

“Trade for salt, yes?” The customer gathered up his souvenirs and paused at the door, saying, “I will tell all my—people—about your store. Will give you four stars on Spacebook.” The front door whooshed shut.

“Wait…what?” Kavon asked to the empty store.

Outside a loud thump rattled the windows. “You’re dinner’s going in the microwave,” Mozie called from the back.

“S’okay,” Kavon said through a broad smile. “I’ll salt it.”