Another prompt from over here.
Glynnis McCreary was an irregular creature, and she had the measurements to prove it.
Contrary to what she'd been taught in high school, the space between her eyes was not perfectly equal to the width of one, nor did the corners of her mouth line up straight with the center of her pupils. People said she was beautiful, but she was sure they were just being polite.
Once or twice, Glynnis had even thought about plastic surgery... not the vain sort, mind you, just a bit of correction to make up for Nature's mistakes. To get things back in line -- but that would mean trusting that whichever doctor whose office she ventured into was adept as his craft, and she wasn't willing to do that.
Doctors were notoriously shoddy when it came to the cleanliness of their clinics - plastic surgeons... er, reconstructive surgeons... especially. She was certain she'd seen or heard or read that somewhere, and it was best not to take the risk. It wasn't like she went out often enough for people to notice the difference anyway.
Germs lived outside. Bad people lived outside. Kooks and monsters and all sorts of undesirable things lurked just beyond her door. Glynnis wasn't certain where she stood on whether or not there were aliens flying about overhead, but if there were, they'd be outside, too. That was another reason to keep her irregularity in tact. You see, if aliens were out there - and she wasn't saying they were, mind you - they'd want the regular people first. They'd want the ones that fit their assumptions of what a human person was supposed to look like.
So Glynnis didn't mind being a bit off-center. Not really.
She was perfectly happy to lock her door.... unlock it... lock it... unlock... lock... each night and keep them out. If they existed... which she didn't say they did.
Three times to lock was key, you understand. There's power in three; it's a special number.
She'd lock and unlock, then pat the door seam from top to bottom, to make sure the lock had caught properly, then wedge her chair beneath the handle, in case it failed. Then Glynnis would check her lights- on, off... on, off.. on, off... then lay her hand against the stove plates to make sure they were completely cool before she went to bed... jiggle the dial to make sure they were as turned off as they said they were.
Then she'd go to her room, turn on the TV, and marvel at just how perfect everyone else in the world was. They had to be, she could see them with her own eyes.
Just like she could see the aliens on channel twelve between the snow... but she never said anything about them. They hated to be noticed.