“OKAY, THIS IS a disappointment,” Sasha declares, throwing her bag on one of the beds in our hotel room.
“Not one alien or UFO themed hotel in Roswell,” she says, opening the curtains that gives us an uninteresting view of a strip mall. “Waste.” She shakes her head disappointedly. “And did you see the Auto Zone?” she asks. “It’s just way too normal here,” she says with obvious despondency.
I’m a bit exhausted from driving for nearly eight hours, so I don’t care if the hotel has a spacecraft in the lobby or not. I just want a hot shower and a bed.
“The diner had aliens,” I remind her as I grab the only clean shirt from my bag. I knew buying that Austin ATX shirt at the airport was a good idea.
“Pictures of aliens on the menu don’t count,” she scoffs. “The building should have been shape
