A disabled human ("invisible" disability) from a...less than understanding society, grown to adulthood and full of the painful little quirks and habits that one develops in order to survive that situation, encounters a member of the Galactic Alliance. A member of the Galactic Alliance who isn't sure what to do with a deathworlder who apologizes for displaying distress, and cries from joy when not berated for showing signs of pain when "there's nothing wrong" -- Anon Guest
They call me Human Kaz, and I'm never going back home. Some say home is where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in. Others say that home is a state of mind. Still more reckon that home is anywhere you find the people who get you. I like the last one.
Where I'm from? The people who get me don't count as people. They're called 'critters' by most and 'space critters' by everyone else. Everyone's supposed to know what's meant when it's said. Me? I never quite got the hang of it. I never quite got the hang of a lot of things.
I never got the hang of casual metaphor. I've always interpreted things literally first. I never got the hang of telling who was laughing with me and who was laughing at me. I never got the hang of telling the difference. In places with the wrong kinds of noise, I have to lipread just to hear what people are saying. At minimum, I have to stare at their mouths as they talk. It helps me focus on the right sounds. I've tested badly in the past and -to be honest- it took me working my heart to a cinder in order to get to Farreach Station. The furthest outpost my people were ever willing to go to. It was there that my life changed.
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