I suppose I should have put in a disclaimer.
1. I make no guarantees you'll enjoy this story. 2. I make no guarantees anyone else will enjoy this story either. 3. I'm certainly not making any money thanks to this questionably enjoyable story. And 4, if I owned any of it, I'm sure I wouldn't have to say any of the above three.
This is another short character study, virtually plot-free on it's own, but the start of a (gasp) plot carried on in the later chapters.
"I'm not sure I'll be able to stop thinking about it."
I'm not really sure why I bothered to say that out loud.
The words, in the form of my rapidly cooling breath, hang in front of me after I speak - a kind of proof that I did, in fact, say them out loud.
It's quiet here.
We're on watch, Jack and I.
I'm not sure what time it is, here, or on Earth.
I guess I wasn't really paying attention.
I should be more… in the moment… especially on watch… but I can't seem to focus.
I am watching…technically. Taking in what's around me much in the same way I do those rare times I drive home from the mountain. I see what's around me, I see the traffic, but the driving is automatic, actions ingrained. Reflex tells me to slow when there are red lights ahead; to accelerate when the road is clear. But I don't really take anything in.
My mind, as is usual lately, is elsewhere.
But Jack knows this. I think that's why we're on watch in pairs.
He didn't say anything. Not really. Just said it was "too damn cold" to be stuck sitting out here alone.
Deserts can be funny that way. By mid-morning, it will be anything but cold here.
There are two moons. One seems much larger than the other, closer to the horizon, an effect Sam, or even Jack, could explain. It's one of those things though – I don't care why one looks bigger. Not really.
I didn't tell Sam that when she did start to explain it.
Jack is absently sifting some sand between his fingers. He's wearing those gloves of his, the cut-offs. I don't know why he wears them in the cold. But I suppose he wouldn't be bothering with the sand if he couldn't feel it against his skin.
I think taking that luxury would be a bit much for me tonight, so I look away again, and continue my almost-watch.
"It's ok to think about it," he says quietly, without turning to me.
I keep glancing around for the third moon, but of course, there are only two.
I kind of like writing these short little views, so I may write some more. Kinda warming up for something, perhaps plotty, and... with a plot.
