“Hello! Qué? What!” The squat man shouted into the phone as if the volume would increase the chances of him being understood. The red light from the control panel in the pilot house lit his scowling Mayan face against the black night outside. Next to him, the pilot leaned back in his comfortable swivel chair watching the panel of instruments glowing carmine in the night and cleaning his fingernails with a knife.
"Alien." Potato Soup Journal. October 22, 2021.