A Message from Roswell | Adam Natali
‘Is that what I think it is?’ The man asked. He looked like an albino toad pressed into a gray suit, but maybe I was just letting my personal feelings for him cloud my vision. He looked more like a well-dressed troll.
Nico laid a small flat object on the man’s desk and took away the cloth draped over it. ‘I must say, sir that it is an honor to meet a congressman,’
‘That’s it,’ the man gasped, ignoring us. His toad/troll eyes bulged as if he were gasping for breath. ‘That’s the piece from the photos.
‘I’m sure you’re familiar with the pictures of the wreckage found in Roswell, New Mexico in 1947,’ Nico said, his thick black hair slicked back.
‘It’s part of the reason I got into politics,’ the toad belched. ‘I thought I’d gain access to things not open to civilians. I was mistaken.’ He sat back down in his seat like a deflated air balloon.
‘But if you’ll pardon my rudeness, the cynic in me must ask, how would someone like yourself have come across this?’
‘You’re not being rude. Even the true believers have their doubts. But if my partner and I may sit down I’ll share our incredible story.’
The troll motioned to the two leather armchairs in front of his solid walnut desk. When we were both seated, Nico began.
‘About a month ago, my colleague and I were driving across your beautiful state in the evening hours. Coming from the city, we had never seen so many stars in our lives, so we decided to pull over to