XIX. Slump.

My little martian has gone into a bit of a slump.

“Not a bad one!” He insists- whenever he does deign to speak with me, but a slump all the same.

“How can a slump not be bad?” I ask him, twelve times a day

He isn’t in the mood to talk, he tells me. “I'm not sad, I don’t feel bad. I just don’t feel like talking “he tells me gently, so as to not hurt my feelings.

I pat him on the head, “there, there”

He almost smacks my hand away “don’t infantilise me” he says with a disgruntled chuckle.

Ah! The little martian is still here.