Instead of watching the July Fourth Last War memorial fireworks, Sylvia's plan was to drink Cerveza Imperials in our hotel room hot tub and celebrate our independence from International Transport for a few days. The plan was to teleport to the San Jose Teleportation Center - we called 'em TCs - and from there hire a car to drive us to our resort in the mountains of Santa Elena. A green, blue, and purple rainbow arced overhead, indicating the mosquitoes were hard at work emptying their bladders on us, keeping us alive. I took the elevator down and stepped onto the street. Maybe that was why it had taken me all morning to start packing. When she said, "I love you," I knew she meant, We'll get through this, but I wasn't so sure. If you can't get ahold of me, I told Julie to give you-and only you-my GDS location. I'm going to depart directly from the TC here at IT. Listen, things at work are quiet, so I'm getting out of here early while the getting's good. I was in the midst of travel-packing procrastination when an audio message from my wife, Sylvia, showed up on my comms.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |