In My Footprints

VOC-0011 29:03:2078CCB148 

“You’d like it here. It’s very red. Remember when we went to Fired Earth? Spent ages looking through those shades of red for the living room. You, heh, you were all engrossed in them and I kept saying ‘Red Room.’ It was backwards for ‘murder’, sort of, didn’t really work. Wasn’t actually that funny.” The landscape stretched far ahead. He turned around and counted his steps. “Not much else to do.” He placed the beacon deep into the dirt. The drill burrowed into the rock and out of the top popped a small bulb. It gave three small blips of light and then switched off.

“I’m… I’m just heading back. I think it’s about a four mile… four mile walk. Landed a little bit off course but I don’t mind the stroll. You know I followed you? You left after we got home. You said I wasn’t any help with the paints and I didn’t know what to say. Had a bad choice of words. I said something like, ‘Are you going to Moorder me now?’ I don’t know why I said it, but you left and… You left and I followed you. I know you said it’s for you, your moment to get away, get a breather. I knew you were mad and you would have killed me if you know I was behind. You went past Mike’s place. He said hello and you ignored him. I wanted to catch up and say I was sorry. I didn’t get a chance to tell you the shade you picked out was… well, beautiful. I know it’s only paint and it’s only a room, that’s what you said, but you had a such good taste for making it feel… making it look good. It made me not care about watching those programmes with you, it was nice to just sit in the room. These are supposed to be journal entries and here I am in my first one talking about our bloody living room.”

He looked behind. The tip of the beacon poked out above a small pile of rocks. Leading back he saw the two trials of footprints, the one returning veered left and right. He sat down with his back to the ship.

“I wish I could follow you here. I don’t know what I’m doing. You’d think it’d be great. Win the survival lottery. Wear the title of saviour of humanity. I’d trade it all for those two extra months with you.”

He titled his head. The sun bright above. A trial of smoke tore through the sky with a small, white shuttle leading it. “I wish you were here, we could meet the neighbours together.”

VOC-0011 29:03:2078CCB148  – end

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