I saw myself in the mirror this morning.
Not a pretty sight.
Ever since I crash-landed on this accursed planet not a day has gone by that I haven't wished for merciful death. Instead I've got another gallery opening to attend tonight. Tomorrow night's a group show…I think… where'd I put that damned invitation?
Damn all these…these…art heads to Hell! Can't I get a moment's rest!?
That's my ride, pulling up outside.
One last check of the outfit, the hair, the "look". Got to fit in with the art heads or else they'll start to suspect something. And if they found out I was really an outsider, not truly one of them, death might not seem so merciful after all…