Author : Suzanne Borchers
Agnes glanced up at the tiny yellow dot that hardly pierced the vacuum of black sky. She crouched over in her threadbare spacesuit touching Carl as their gloved hands picked through the rubbish pile. Her stomach fed upon itself, while her eyes searched for bits of discarded food.
“The supply ships will be here soon.” Carl tried to straighten up, failed, and collapsed on the ground.
“You’ve been saying that for years, you old bear.” She sat down beside Carl, enveloping his gloved hand in hers.
“They promised,” he whispered before his heart pumped one last time.
Startled, Agnes realized his passing. She carefully removed his helmet and touched Carl’s cheek.
She thought back to their joyful arrival buoyed with youthful hope, later childless loving and mourning her empty womb, failed hydroponic gardening, crumb rationing.
A sigh escaped. “I’m coming, my old bear.”
She unfastened her helmet, falling beside him.