New Flash Fiction

Sunday, September 23 2006

Parson Residence, Titusville, FL

It’s really late, because I’ve been up studying. Why? Because, except for spending time with Steph, what the hell else would I be doing? Aerospace engineers aren’t born with knowledge of orbital mechanics ingrained into our brains.

We have to learn it. Learning takes time and effort. So, dear keeper of memories, that’s why this has fallen the way it has. . .

 It’s interesting, though. I can pick at least three sci-fi series out right now that feature some sort of a space-going aircraft carrier. That must be ingrained into a certain male psyche at birth, or maybe we all just watched Battlestar Galactica at the same time and thought it was a cool idea. 

I hear the new one’s pretty good. 

Some day, I’ll actually have time to sit down and watch it, too.

It had me looking at Chet and his idea about reimagining the Tomcat differently.

Dreaming deserved its own portion at the table of time. Maybe it got a small plate, but it deserved to be filled like the others. It was vital to keep an imagined future worth pursuing at front of mind. 

Nothing else made so much damned hard work worth doing.

And the end was here. . . If there’s one thing I’ve realized, it’s that once you’re a certain distance off of the path, there’s no use trying to go back. With my stuff packed back in my bag, I found myself staring at the wall.

Wondering what tomorrow might bring.