A child of fantasy

She was six and she was serious. Her curls had been cut short for summer. She furrowed her brow. “I’m from Jupiter,” she explained, taking a bite of toast. Her alien-ness was obvious: despite her appearance, the brown hair, green eyes, pale skin, stocky frame, she was too dissimilar from the rest of the family. She talked too little, or maybe too much. She was always too little or too much.

The adults chuckled over their coffee as she continued. “The spaceship crashed in Kansas.”

“Kansas?”

“Yup. The Friendly Animals are fixing it.”

The adults exchanged knowing glances, doubting her certainty. A child, prone to fantasy and dreams. Imaginative. Dramatic. Melodramatic.