Draws Her From This Sleep
by JT Gill
They hug for what will be the last time.
Her feet dangle in the air as he takes her in his arms on the brick steps out front. He tries not to cry, to bring her down. Instead, he buries his face deeper in her shoulder, savoring the smell of her hair. She wants this more than anything, he knows. More than him.
Finally, she gets in the dark Cadillac parked in the driveway. The window rolls down as they cruise away, and he can see that she is smiling, waving from the passenger seat.
Commitment begins, he thinks.
Inside the house, he runs his hand over the sleek glass of the jump-pod. This is the vessel that he is supposed to spend the next forty-five years inside.
He wonders whether it is harder to commit to skipping a lifetime for another, or waiting a lifetime.
In her mind, the plan was simple.