Every morning, I found peculiar, perfectly formed dewdrop constellations meticulously arranged on my kitchen floor, not from condensation, but from some inexplicable artistry. One dawn, I walked in to discover Bloomy, my alien roommate, its vast, rippling form gently hunched, precisely shaping these glistening patterns with a slender metallic limb, its ovoid head tilted in profound concentration. It slowly lifted its head, its empty eye sockets seemingly holding ancient light, and its voice, a deep, metallic hum, articulated a question about the 'terrestrial water cycle' that made the ordinary kitchen feel like the edge of a new cosmos. In that shimmering moment, I understood that my definition of "home" was expanding, each sunrise a silent, liquid testament to our impossible, beautiful cohabitation.

每天早晨，我都會在廚房地板上發現奇特、形狀完美的露珠星座，它們並非來自冷凝，而是來自某種難以解釋的藝術創作。一個黎明，我走進廚房，發現我的外星室友Bloomy，其龐大、波紋狀的身體輕輕彎曲，正用一條纖細的金屬肢體精確地塑形這些閃爍的圖案，其橢圓形頭部傾斜，專注而深沉。它緩緩抬起頭，空洞的眼窩似乎蘊含著古老的光芒，其聲音，一聲深沉的金屬嗡鳴，清晰地表達了一個關於「地球水循環」的問題，讓這個普通的廚房感覺像是新宇宙的邊緣。在那閃爍的時刻，我明白我對「家」的定義正在擴展，每個日出都是我們不可能而美麗共存的無聲、液態的證明。