At the Border Again

Sitting in line at the border, you say your prayers to the sun, the day, the clouds, the wind, to the universe, asking them to carry you home safely, quickly, without pain, without fear.
The car ahead of you pulls up to the window, and you take a last chance to repeat your prayers a few times, whispering, “Dios del dia y del sol, de las nubes y del viento...”

You pass your passport to the border guard at the gate to the spaceport.
“Where do you live,” she says with a questioning look on her face.
“I live in on the planet with no rain,” you say.
“Why are you going to the Ice Planet,” the border guard asked.
“I'm going to visit my girlfriend,” said Roja.
“You cross a lot. How come she never comes here?”

Tell her it's none of her business | Try to laugh it off