The sick alien picked up a sheet of the dried seaweed. Reaching into the bowl of mush, it scooped up a gobbet of it and put it on the seaweed, folding it into a neat package. Ripple passed the completed packets to the guests. The guests waited until everyone had one, then began eating.

Juna bit into her package of mush. It was sour and faintly bready, like her mother’s injera, but there was also a sharp cheddar cheese taste, with a hint of iodine and a salty tang like soy sauce. It would, she thought with a sudden surge of homesickness, go well with her father’s Burgundy. She closed her eyes, feeling tears prickle as she remembered her home, with its neat rows of vines filing off into the distance. Would she ever see it again?

She opened her eyes. The aliens were looking at her, purple with curiosity. She blinked back tears and took another bite, concentrating only on the taste. It was delicious. She flushed turquoise, and nodded to show the aliens how good she thought it was. They relaxed, and began talking among themselves, handing her other foods to try.

Juna finished first. She was full, but the aliens kept pushing more food on her. They continued to gorge until their flat bellies bulged. Instead of water, they washed their food down with large gourds of sweet fruit juice. They chewed on great chunks of honeycomb, spitting out the chewed and sucked comb. Brilliantly colored bees settled on the chewed combs and began eating the wax.

At last the aliens were full. They leaned back, stroking their distended bellies, letting out a chorus of loud rumbling belches that sounded almost human. Juna laughed. The aliens looked at her, ears raised in curiosity.

Embarrassed, Juna blushed brown.