Doug didn't scream as he drifted through space. He understood no one would hear him. They wouldn't come rushing to his aid. For now his only thought was to preserve the oxygen he had left. Hopefully he would be rescued before then. The Qhex platoon had already been delt with.
Instead he went to a favorite memory of his. One with many versions that he had relived dozens of times before. A small cafe where he would meet his best friend Ben every Friday. They'd eat hand churned ice cream & watch comedians on open mic night.
Suddenly Doug was overcome with sadness. He would never spend another night with Ben, spiking their coffee as amateurs belted out Mariah Carey's "We Belong Together," mistaking open mic for karaoke. Some nights they laughed so hard they were asked to leave.
Those nights were the best nights. A close second would be the nights Doug spent fishing with his father. Floating along the dark lake fishing under the starlight and picking up the nocturnal fish. So many things he would miss.
As the last of his air circulated through his lungs Doug went back to that coffeehouse one last time. He took a seat and offered two cups of coffey, poured in a little vodka and waited for the day Ben would join him.
