The strange object lands in the wastebasket with a thud, and you think no more about it.

A few days later you are talking with a friend of ours, Todd Hawkins.

“Did you see the airline pilot on TV last night?” Todd asks. “He and his crew swear that a couple of days ago they saw an alien space ship over the Atlantic.”

“Really?”

“Yeah; it was at latitude 54, longitude 40, so they've called it UFO 54-40. At first they thought a passenger was missing, but none of the doors had opened—there was no way a passenger could have disappeared. They finally decided that the passenger list must have been wrong.”

Something about what Todd tells you sets you to thinking about that flight you took on the Concorde, and something about a trip to France, but for some reason, no matter how hard you try, you just can't remember what happened.

/ENDING Nº02/