He knew what he was supposed to do. That had been apparent from the beginning.

That
was what made the choice so difficult. What he was supposed to do and what he would
do were not the same. This would have been fine if he were willing to face the
inevitable consequences, but he wasn't.
At that moment he had a thought that he'd never imagine he'd consider. "I could
just cheat," he thought, "and that would solve the problem." He tried to move on
from the thought but it was persistent. It didn't want to go away and, if he was
honest with himself, he didn't want it to.
She tried not to judge him. His ratty clothes and unkempt hair made him look
homeless. Was he really the next Einstein as she had been told? On the off chance
it was true, she continued to try not to judge him.
There are different types of secrets. She had held onto plenty of them during her
life, but this one was different. She found herself holding onto the worst type. It
was the type of secret that could gnaw away at your insides if you didn't tell
someone about it, but it could end up getting you killed if you did.
There was a time when he would have embraced the change that was coming. In his
youth, he sought adventure and the unknown, but that had been years ago. He wished
he could go back and learn to find the excitement that came with change but it was
useless. That curiosity had long left him to where he had come to loathe anything
that put him out of his comfort zone.
He wondered if he should disclose the truth to his friends. It would be a risky
move. Yes, the truth would make things a lot easier if they all stayed on the same
page, but the truth might fracture the group leaving everything in even more of a
mess than it was not telling the truth. It was time to decide which way to go.
He took a sip of the drink. He wasn't sure whether he liked it or not, but at this
moment it didn't matter. She had made it especially for him so he would have forced
it down even if he had absolutely hated it. That's simply the way things worked.
She made him a new-fangled drink each day and he took a sip of it and smiled,
saying it was excellent.
"It was so great to hear from you today and it was such weird timing," he said.
"This is going to sound funny and a little strange, but you were in a dream I had
just a couple of days ago. I'd love to get together and tell you about it if you're
up for a cup of coffee," he continued, laying the trap he'd been planning for
years.
It was a scrape that he hardly noticed. Sure, there was a bit of blood but it was
minor compared to most of the other cuts and bruises he acquired on his adventures.
There was no way he could know that the rock that produced the cut had alien
genetic material on it that was now racing through his bloodstream. He felt
perfectly normal and continued his adventure with no knowledge of what was about to
happen to him.
Do you really listen when you are talking with someone? I have a friend who listens
in an unforgiving way. She actually takes every word you say as being something
important and when you have a friend that listens like that, words take on a whole
new meaning.
Sitting in the sun, away from everyone who had done him harm in the past, he
quietly listened to those who roamed by. He felt at peace in the moment, hoping it
would last, but knowing the reprieve would soon come to an end. He closed his eyes,
the sun beating down on face and he smiled. He smiled for the first time in as long
as he could remember.