The bright ones live in the bright city. They enslave others to do their work. We don’t like the light and don’t want to be slaves, so we act insa...e, and they steer far from us,” she explained. “I see,” he said. “Are you one of the mythical ones?” she asked. “What do you mean? Who are the mythical ones?” Byron replied. “A man…men. Ones that are rumored to have lived among us long ago,” Ayla continued. “Yes…I’m a man,” he told her, “You’re telling me that there are no men…at all…here.” “No…they. She took a few more bites. The doorbell hadn't rung.Hmm, she thought. The gate was open, maybe it was just someone turning around in her driveway. She finished her cereal. She watched TV some more, still wondering about the headlights and the motor she had heard. She had to return to her studying anyway.She got up and peeked through the kitchen window. Sure enough, it was there, a very familiar blue Bronco. She squinted, and saw him. He was still sitting in his car, his head on the steering. More

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