Going Home!
They both went to Juan’s End of Tour party on Saturday. It was all right: most people didn’t know they were together, and if Juan found out, what did he care? He was going Home.
“Five years!” George said to him. “Did they go by fast? I’ve still got two to go, myself.”
“Pretty fast,” Juan admitted. “The work’s fun, but I’m ready to go.” He looked down at his plump body. “I can’t wait to look like me again, too.”
“Were you thinner?” Emily asked as she sipped her drink. Late Middle First Republic Americans put umbrellas in some of them, for no rational reason observers could decipher. “I think I was fatter, actually. If that even means anything, when it comes to two different species.”
“…Yes. Yes, I was definitely thinner.” Juan grinned. “And I won’t have to shave anymore! I hate shaving. And hair.”
“I’ve found that mine has grown on me,” George said deadpan, and was gratified that the other two laughed. Making a joke like that in another language was hard.