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Description
Goofy Goose stared at the cracked visor of his secondhand spacesuit, its frayed wires sparking as he drifted past Saturn’s rings. The suit smelled like burnt toast and regret—a rental from the shady dealer on Asteroid X-9 who’d sworn it was “barely worn.” He’d traded their nest’s last golden egg for it, the one Goosey Goose had been warming when the solar winds tore her away. His webbed feet ached inside the too-tight boots, but he kept flapping, because flapping was all he had left. The Milky Way blurred through his tears as he replayed her final honk, the way her wings had flailed against the void’s greedy pull. Three moons ago, he’d found her favorite feather clinging to a comet’s tail. Now it rested over his heart, its iridescence dulled by cosmic dust. He didn’t notice the oxygen gauge blinking red. Didn’t care. The black hole’s whisper ahead sounded like her laugh. When his thrusters sputtered, he closed his eyes and pictured her waddling beside him in the stardust meadows of Proxima B, where they’d planned to retire. The suit’s final alarm screamed. Somewhere beyond the ice-plated ruins of a derelict spaceship, a frozen silhouette floated, one wing still outstretched toward home.
