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Weekly Contest #357
I never wanted to become an astronaut. When I put my gloved hand on his and he pulled away, I should have known something was wrong. It was at launch, with the rockets roaring at 170 decibels, when I thought that he’d said I love you. We were vibrating violently. The g-forces were crushing my chest. I love you, too, I said, my voice ricochetting inside my helmet. I couldn’t actually hear him until the boosters had fallen away and we’d punched through the ionosphere. I squeezed his right glove. “Ivy,” he said, “I’m leaving you.” Then none ...
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