Mother Ship… Come in Mother Ship, Can You Read Me?

We drift silently and painfully apart, an intricate web of tethers untangling, gasping for oxygen now released and dispersing into ether-space, desperately re-orienting to Mother Ship.

Like someone said, “A near-death experience.” Frankly, this is a death experience.

You, no I say first, please listen to me without comment. Hear me. Be with me now, as in “comfort me”, for we are friends first.

You say I don’t think of you more than I do myself.

That’s true. I’m actually thinking of me, remembering you every minute.

The signal between us is fading. All hands are on deck. Mother Ship… Come in Mother Ship. Come in. Can you read me?