I thought the conversation went well, because she laughed at least four times. I counted. I asked her when she was planning to return to Earth, and she said it wouldn’t be anytime soon. She told me she’d been living on a small planet by the sun that she bought for a song from some old man who had built an underground condo there just to find out he couldn’t live forty-nine million kilometers from the sun. She said she knew that sounded far, but it was actually as close as one could get. So she emptied her savings account and bought the planet off him. Also a private atmospheric system from the Space Depot, one of those advanced systems with a tropical weather feature; after three months of renovations she indeed lowered the temperature to 51°C, which isn’t ideal, but the place was still cheaper than a two-bedroom apartment in Petah Tikva. I asked her whether Hebrew was the official language on her planet, and she laughed, saying she had invented a special language only the inhabitants of the planet could understand. I don’t really remember the rest, because right after mentioning Petah Tikva, she tried to kiss me, our helmets bumping into each other.

She was heaving with laughter, said she probably had too much to drink, and put her head on my shoulder. I don’t know how long we sat there like that, but at some point another girl appeared, announcing their ride was about to leave. Before I could wrap my head around the situation she was already up on her feet, saying she had to get going. I asked for her number, but she didn’t own a holographic phone because there was no signal on her planet. She told me that if I ever happened to find myself in the area, I was more than welcome to pop by for coffee. It was only after she had already left that I realized I didn’t even get her name.

It wasn’t on the space shuttle’s route, but apparently the driver was in a good mood because he agreed to make a little detour. I took my bag and got off at a deserted stop. The first thing I felt was an onslaught of sun rays, like the incessant flash of a camera clicking away. I quickly took my sunglasses out of my pocket. It provided only partial relief. I looked up at the sky, painted a bright purple just like she had described to me at the party. I didn’t dare look directly at the sun, but a quick glance revealed it was much larger than it appeared from Earth. The bus pulled away, and I looked around me but there was no house in sight. There was nothing but blue sand dunes, and an indistinct smell reminiscent of caramel.