Two days ago it was a full moon. Fog enclosed a dome over the earth so thick you couldn’t even see the moon’s rotund shape yet you could tell it was there. It shone as a bright eerily ghastly blob in the milk-white sky.

Up in the observatory, the hairless boy gazed skyward, observing the constantly changing constellations. “If you’re there, I’m here. Take me there.” He whispered longingly.

Red constantly wondered on things unknown. He feared them and he was fixated with the idea that there may be intelligence outside earthlings and their aura of being. He thought he was one of them, marooned on the green planet.

All through life, Red found strange things about himself that weren’t the same for all of the other kids. He had cancer ever since he was born that didn’t quite kill him. He was isolated from the other kids at school. Even the nerds dejected him. He looked nothing like that of his mother and father either yet both promised they were biological.

He was named after the scarlet color he turned the second he was exposed to the world. Red - The color of strength, passion, romance, and courage. Yet none of these things were what he was.

That’s what he named himself, none. It didn’t need capitalization in any book. So insignificant and alone the number was, yet zero was destructive. Zero mixed with any number would be complete enhialation.

It was also true that none had unusual habits apart from scoring all A’s in his classes. He could make a bomb out of anything sitting about him. He often did make bombs. But he never thought to use them. He grinned at the whim but always turned it down.

“Red! Dinner’s ready!” An older feminine voice sounded from down below. None sighed with anger at being interrupted and pushed the eye piece away. He walked down the claustrophobia-evoking staircase and entered the kitchen.

A steamy scent of spaghetti wafted into his nostrils and he sat at a pristinely clean dinner table. His parental units tried so hard to keep things clean yet he could see the grimey filth behind their fingernails. Red did not speak.

His parentals looked at him as if expecting him to blow up in front of their eyes. He moved as he normally would, twisting the metal utencil and looping floppy noodles cut into tenths by his motherly-unit. ”Tenths? TENTHS!?!” Rage grew in his voice as he slammed his fists onto the table and looked at his parentals like a mad baboon.

His face grew red after shade of violent red until his face was like a fire. Flames danced in his iris and his parentals panicked, clutching each other for comfort. This fueled none. He clutched his fingers into fists and just like that he popped. His parental units were there, just perplexed with the gooey blue blood splattered on their faces.