Ejection

The chronometer on the nightstand blinked. Red numbers in the dark. Time was up.

Frankie sat on the edge of the bed.

-Duty calls, he said.

Red stirred. She stretched languidly. She watched him with sleepy eyes, her hair a mess of red static against the white pillow.

-Figures, she sighed.

Frankie stood up. He gathered his clothes from the floor. He pulled on his shirt. Armor plating back in place. He buckled his belt.

-I have to disembark, he said. The window is closing.

Red sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. She looked small in the big bed.

-Keep the comms open, Captain.

-Always, Frankie promised.

He leaned down. He kissed her.

-One last kiss before I cross the skybridge, he whispered.

He turned and walked out of the bedroom and down the dark hallway.

He reached the front door and stepped out into the night.

He walked to the car. The ship. He climbed in and shut the door.

He looked back at the house, a space station. A single light burned in the window.

He turned the key. The engine roared to life.

-Thrusters online, he muttered.

He pulled away from the curb, leaving the station behind.