The Man From Another World - Finished Gom wasn't anything that special. Pale skin with vivid green eyes that flickered as his attention changed. A protective, loving personality and a willingness to please. My type of boy. It didn't even matter that there was one flaw in our relationship. Okay - so the fact that we had only three days together before I left for Earth, maybe that mattered. - But I wasn't bothered by his alien features, wide, slanted eyes and tufts of mousy brown hair sprouting from his spotted head. Undisturbed by humans - or aliens for that matter - and with only each other for company, we began to understand each other and now, as my three months on Mars are almost up, it's painful to think about saying goodbye. "Heidi, would you want food?" Gom comes trundling up to me. "No, Gom." I reply as affectionately as possible. "You sad about going?" He flops down next to me. "Yes." "Don't be sad. I not live long, anyway." "You what? Gom, what do you mean?" My heart began to beat faster. Not live long - what did he mean? "#life expectancy no long! Few years!" I can't reply. The food I have attempted to eat clogs my throat. It won't go down. "Heidi? Do not worry. As you say - chill." I have to laugh, despite the situation. Ever since I arrived, Gom has tried to pick up the slang of Earth. So, you might be wondering how a just-sixteen year old girl got on a rocket and flew to Mars. My Dad builds rockets. He and his team were discussing sending a few teens up to Mars, with two adults. Many volunteered, and here I am. Sat on Mars, about thirty metres away from the others, with Gom. They think I'm being anti-social. I can't tell them about Gom - at least, I couldn't. I have second thoughts. Maybe they could help him. Take him back to Earth. "Colin!" I yell, then clamp my hand over my mouth. Maybe I shouldn't. But they could help Gom. "Heidi - who Colin? He your... friendboy?" I laugh at Gom's expression. "No, Gom. He's our guide. He can help you." "Gom no want help. Gom join Mother and Father in sky." "Please, Gom!" I beg. He won't hear of it. Three days later, we are in a rocket, me positioned by the round window. Gom clumsily stands and waves. I wave back, and with tears streaming down my cheeks, positioned my thumb on my lips and raise it to my forehead. Our signal. Before the rocket begins to lift, Gom repeats it and mouths my name. Then we lift into the air and I see him stumbling forwards. "Heidi!" I see him mouth the two syllables. Gom has gom.