All right everybody, it’s new story time! Why? Because I don’t have anything even remotely relevant to write about my life or the world. And… Some of you people actually tend to like my silly little stories, so hereeeee weeeee goooooooo.

It’s entitled, “Gravity”. Hope you enjoy it:

Have you ever tried to have sex in zero gravity?

No… seriously. Have you?

Well let me be the first to tell you that the negatives outweigh the positives. Oh sure, at first the thought of being mid-coitus while floating around sounds really appealing, but when the actual mechanics of this kick in… it ends up being more trouble than it’s worth.

First off, you have to make sure you don’t eat at least two hours before making love. Nothing can be more embarrassing than being caught in a barrel roll of lust only to upchuck your lunch, which consisted of meat paste and freeze-dried ice cream, into the face of your lover. Granted, most of it is going to float away, but you try maintaining an erection when you know that somewhere, lurking the shadows, is a bit of semi-digested turkey floating around, waiting to fly back in your face.

Then there’s also the problem of getting used to the sensation of being weightless while trying to keep yourself from smashing your head into some random, plastic compartment that houses god-knows-what for god-knows-what reason. I remember one time Sarah and I were attempting a floating sixty-nine when my elbow accidentally smashed into a glass mouse cage. We spent the rest of the night trying to re-collect the mice as well as the little droplets of my blood. Not exactly a romantic getaway.

I never expected to fall in love with her. I’m sure she wasn’t planning on it either. Being an astronaut there’s a certain code of conduct one has to maintain in order to prove to your superiors that you are capable of making tough decisions. What if Sarah was outside the space station and her tug line suddenly snapped? What if she started floating out into space? If she were just a colleague, we’d do everything in our power to get her back, but not at the risk of the rest of the crew. But if I loved her? I’m not sure what I’d do…

I knew I was in trouble the first day of training exercises. I was reaching over to press the CO2 dump button, and she was reaching over to press the Trajectory Re-alignment button and… our hands brushed. Just for one second. That’s all we needed. From that point on, we knew we were in trouble.

You know that feeling? When you’re drunk and at a bar and some guy’s mouthing off, and you know that if you punch him only bad things can happen from it, but this guy just won’t shut up, and all the while you’re having this internal dialogue you look up to see the guy sprawled out on the ground staring at you slack-jawed and for some odd reasons your knuckles hurt?

Yeah… our love was kind of like that.

The fact of the matter is… They say you don’t have any choice in who you fall in love with, and I agree. I think if something that big and powerful was left to choice, I think the divorce rate would be much higher in the world. Because we don’t always know what’s right for us, what’s best. It’s one of those things that… just happens to you. One minute, you’re sharing a sippy cup of coffee with a co-worker, next minute you’re trying to unhook her bra while you’re upside-down. I’m not saying that the sex is the reason we’re in love. The sex is just an added bonus (Or detriment, depending on how you look at it). The love comes from the little moments. The shared quick glances during dinner with the rest of the crew, holding hands under the table… Not the fact that it’s dangerous and exciting and we could get caught at any moment and suffer severe repercussions because of it…. But because we don’t care. Let them catch us. The black hole’s probably going to tear us apart anyway.

Right… the black hole. Forgot to mention that.

It’s not anybody’s fault that we’re being sucked in. Nobody at ground control saw it coming. I’m past trying to place any of the blame on anybody. It’s kind of like being told you have cancer in your blood. At that point, there’s no reason to try and fight it. All that matters is to make the best out of the time you have left.

I think I already gave up when I lost Sarah. She was out there when we got the news. We tried to get her back in as soon as possible but… she was gone.

Houston says we only have a couple of hours left before the station loses all electric facilities. After that, we just have to wait until the oxygen runs out. They can’t send anybody out here to get us because… there’s just no time. Even if there was, they wouldn’t risk another crew. They don’t love us enough, I suppose.

So what’s the point of all of this? Why am I just rambling into a voice recorder, transmitting my tangent across a million miles of space, where it’s being stored in a hard drive that some tech at NASA will find while they dig through the remains of our mission?

I don’t know… I honestly don’t.

This isn’t supposed to be my life story. This isn’t supposed to be a last will and testament. Maybe it’s supposed to be a warning. A warning to never take the one you love for granted. Because it wasn’t choice that brought you together. It wasn’t a mutual decision. It was fate. I believe that now. Fate gave me my true love, and then took her away. But at least it had the decency to make my time without her minimal.

Yes, this is all grim. I know that. And I’m not trying to bring you down. But consequence carries a certain weight with it, a certain gravity. If this transmission is too dark and depressing, then turn it off. You have every right to not want to hear this.

But if you can take it, then listen closely… I have never loved before like I loved her. And now… all that’s left is emptiness… inevitability. I’m not afraid. I can’t be. Because I know, KNOW, that she is waiting for me. And to me, there’s no greater example of love then that.

The lights are starting to flicker now. I don’t think I have much more time.

Sarah…

If I had the chance, I’d hold your hand above the table. Who cares if they know?

I can close me eyes and see her face hovering over mine. My hand running through her hair as it floats soundlessly and gently in zero gravity. She leans forward and whispers something into my ear. It’s not, “I love you”, because true love doesn’t have to be put out so plainly, so bluntly. What she whispers is deeper than that, more important. She whisp-

-End Transmission-