You took a gap year.

Usually, you would be reincarnated as some sort of star. You wrote letters to Nebula #19232019 asking if your place had been secured for the upcoming years, around ten billion if your math was right. It usually was, it was no wonder you always found yourself being accepted into such programs. When the response letter came into your inbox you developed a cocky smile. Your peer (who you did not care to disclose the name of) was next to you, reading over your shoulder as you highlighted the text to embolden the fantastic news that you were certain you had received:

‘_____

Greetings.

As you are aware, now is the time when we select the vibrations that are set to be the next batch of souls. During this process we receive many applications, and it is difficult to go through them all and decide on the best and the worst.

On Monday morning we received your application, and twenty-eight Thursdays ago we received the letters you will send next week in response to this email. Frankly, we think your attitude and language was atrocious. That is not the sort of example we hope to set for all the protostars and molecular clouds. We know that you do not understand.

In light of this development, we have decided to go in another direction for our class beginning: 39/93/1854892085653829. We hope you understand.

I will, however, bring up the fact that you do have an outstanding set of skills and references. With both Hei’y’shth and Aleibdmen writing personalised letters of recommendation, I cannot recommend you still apply to a lived-formative existence. It would be good for you if you continued with us in some capacity.

I highly recommend one of our ‘Human’ courses. Different from what you normally gravitate towards, based on your letters, yet allows for some credits still to be offered to you at the end of it. You can apply to this through your student portal. Link found below.

Thank you for applying. Best,

Bvk.’

The look on your face was priceless. ‘I can’t believe it…’ your peer said, your peer simply because you did not feel enough towards it to allow it to be anything other than peer. The only reason you kept it around was because you looked more intelligent by comparison. You spoke most languages that the higher-ups preferred and required. Your peer knew the human tongues of; ‘English’, ‘Arabic’, and ‘Yoruba’. Very little else. ‘I cannot believe it!’ It said in a tongue you knew. ‘You, You!, if all people. Got rejected by Nebula #19232019.’ its voice was very much getting on your nerves now.

‘Not rejected,’ you corrected, doing an extremely poor job of hiding your frustrated scowl that now replaced the once cocky grin, ‘Re…directed. They told me to apply for one of their human courses.’ You explained. You were stretching the truth, as you often preferred to do in your favour. Aleibdmen, for example.

Your peer snickered and scrunched its face in a way that you did not like. ‘Yeah, yeah, sure! I got in, but you did not?! Priceless!’ It said with a laugh. You decided to pretend that it was a burp in order to save your dignity. ‘So, are you going to apply for it?’ It asked.

‘Of course,’ you said, puffing up your chest and forcing it to glow a bright neon, ‘I’ll consider it a gap-year, a skill building year.’ You said, unaware of what awaited you once you applied. You were accepted in no time, ready for your hundred-year service on Earth in a human presentation. You dreaded it, you had seen many times over the kind of disgusting things that go on down there, but it was better than nothing. You forced yourself to believe that when you gathered up your things and new flesh suit. Your peer wished you well, kissing your innards gently and waving you off…

I arrived in a country foreign to its neighbors, yet somehow still friends. My mother spoke some words to me, something I had not cared to learn before arriving here. I had no choice but to go in blind. I collected my thoughts and tried to figure out what was going on. I was uncomfortable, cold, and I could not see anything except for the bright light. There was a buzz, and some words similar to the likes of my mother. A loud boom, I did not like loud booms. They hurt my ears. I wanted to go back, rescind my application and merely apply to work in the creation system or planet system, as monotonous as that was. Everything was wrong.

Then, but then, I felt my mother’s hand embrace my head. Her pinky wrapped around the back of my neck and her other arm supported my spine. I was laid flat across her body. There was a warmth and a rhythmic vibration. The likes I had never seen before. It was wonderful. I made a mental note to talk about my mother once I returned back to the everyplaceeverytime. This would do wonders with my application.

I grew hungry and reached out towards my mother, this new woman and warmth would surely have the answers. I was right, as I often tended to be, and felt her place her breast against my lips. I thanked her for this drink and allowed the new warmth to envelop my innards with a coating I would soon never forget.

I was stood in the cold, my hoodie the only warmth I could find. That was a new thing I had learned about, hoodies. I briefly wondered if I could bring it back with me, it should be no problem. I come from a place where miracles happen, bringing a hoodie with me should be no problem whatsoever. It kept me warm, after all, especially in the cold of Scotland. I was spending my third-year undergraduate course here. It was a new culture to me, and I had been struggling to fit in. I bought this hoodie — ‘University of Glasgow’ was plastered along the front of it. — with some of the money my father had kindly sent over to me.

I realized that I hated new things. I wanted to go home and back to the comfort of everyplaceeverytime, but it was too late now, and the only way out would destroy my mother and father. I doubted they signed up for pain when they applied for their bodies. I began to wonder how their time at university had gone. If they had applied to ones similar to mine or not.

‘Hey, Danny!’ I heard from afar. He was once my peer, but now my first relationship with a man. I wondered if it would be worth it, and then decided that it was. Change was good, and this new adventure was making me happier than I could have ever described before.

I had recently signed the divorce papers. Merely five minutes ago. I was in the car with my daughter in the backseat, ‘Dad,’ she began, ‘Can we get some food?’ She asked, perhaps trying to avoid the situation at hand. I sighed softly and agreed, we had an hour before we had to go and pick up my Testosterone anyway. She was texting in the back while I drove the car, I wondered if this was worth it.

I uprooted practically my whole life because I was uncomfortable with the flesh suit given to me. Once long black hair, now short and dyed blue. Once skinny, now with weight from once pregnancy and now comfort. Once bare, now spread and covered with tattoos and ink. ‘Ah, why don’t we try something new?’ I asked, thinking about the new fast-food place that had opened.

‘I’m not big on trying new things…’ My daughter said, I wondered how she had reached the age of twenty-five and had discovered a love of trying new things.

‘You never know,’ I replied, knowing that it was very unlikely to get through to her, but decided to try anyway. I had discovered that I rather enjoy life, elated that I had decided to try something new. I decided not to force the topic but knew it would be playing repeatedly in my mind for some time. I hummed a familiar tune, and then stopped. Then, I hummed something new. My daughter seemed to like it.

It was a Friday. I had often wondered what it would be like to die. Most deaths that I had experienced before were of the… explosive nature. They resembled fireworks. I remember being at my first ever Fourth-of-July celebration. I had been inside with the dog to soothe her; it ended up being the other way around as I could not help but weep from the sensations and nostalgia I was feeling. It was so foreign to me. Just like dying, I suppose.

My daughter was with me, holding my hand, she was not upset at me when I could not hold her hand in return. I thanked her for that, although I could not speak.

‘Don’t be afraid, Dad,’ she said, only I was not afraid. This life may have been new to me, but dying surely was not. For the first time, however, I did not reach up to soothe her. Rather, I twisted my eyes to her. The only words I could say to her was a rumble coming deep from my chest. No words. She did not mind. ‘I know this is all new to you, but I am here for you. I’m right here.’ She said and kissed my cheek.

She was so gentle, as if I were a newborn. For a moment I recognized this. No, this was not new to me at all.

Her hand supported my head and neck, her pinky at my neck, and her arm wrapped around my spine as I rumbled deep into her ear. She was okay with it. I was okay with it. I loved her. However, I was on to something new, just beyond the light.

… You returned not long after you had left. Your arms were empty, which led you to frantically feeling around the space you had returned to. Your peer raised its eyebrow curiously and blinked. ‘What’s with all the looking? Did you forget something? Come back to grab it?’ It asked, standing up from its desk. You did not notice at first, too busy trying to find whatever it was you had been looking for. You only noticed when your peer placed its hand on your back.

‘Did you happen to see a hoodie laying around?’ You asked, lifting some space and folding it in. To check if it had ended up there by some stroke of bad luck. ‘Or some photographs?’ You added, remembering that you had tried to smuggle photographs of your daughter and wife into the afterlife.

‘Hoodie?’ your peer asked. There was no direct translation from English to Kajakagnese.

‘Yeah, I wanted to bring it with me to the afterlife.’ You spoke. Your peer rolled its eyes sharply and crossed its arms.

‘Ooh, fancy. One trip to human-life and suddenly you’re saying things like hoodie and afterlife.’ It mocked, soon pointing a playful tease at you. You did not appreciate this, however, as you felt as though you had just lost some important part of yourself. Something that could never be replaced.

‘It’s wearable warmth— Look, I need it back.’ You said, ‘It is very important.’

‘Just get a new one.’ Your peer said.

But you did not want a new one. That was clear. Your peer understood this, however, one does not just learn the human languages without having been human. Only, your peer knew that everything and everyone was once new. Everything and everyone will be new someday again. Simply different.

Your peer, who once mocked you, knew that habits never leave, just change. It had been avoiding the topic of the photographs. Instead deciding to take you to the next millennium’s successful applicants. The journey was tiring, and rather tedious to try and stick to. There were so many new things to do and look at since you had been gone. Your peer was not letting you away with it.

‘You will never see your wife and daughter again,’ your peer said, looking you in the eye. You frowned, practically, wordlessly, begging for that not to be the case. But it was the case, and you were not getting out of it. ‘However,’ Your peer began. Now, it took your oracle and twisted it around in the grave. Here, in this place, you now stared up at the night sky that was there, for all the earth to see. There, with a glorious vibration and the hint of a twinkle. There, hand crafted by inexperienced hands, simply looking to try something new. There, breaking from television screen or hopeful, silly, dreams. You could not believe your eyes when you saw it. You, all brand new, ready to make your next application.

A star, blue and infant, there for your next of kin to wish upon.