Another day, another writing prompt; flexing those muscles. Though I’ll admit the 300 word count felt a little confining this time; I still have so many questions (lol). Like my previous prompt responses, Photo Fiction #23 is courtesy Random_Michelle
I bury him at the edge at the edge of Forever, a sand-covered planet where you could go blind, from the whiteness. It is the fate of adventurers. I plant a cross fashioned of white-wood-and-weed, the only thing that grows here.
“Still trying to make a convert out of me?” he teases in my head.
He didn’t believe in any kind of magic, not even love.
“It’s hormones, luv,” he’d say, “the girl hormones, I think we call it in our worlds, oestrogen, meet the boy hormones, what are those called again, ah, testosterone, the skin flushes, lust sparks everywhere…”
I’d laugh and roll my eyes at the same time.
“Dopamine, Norepinephrine, Serotonin…with that drug cocktail, it’s a wonder we don’t go insane.”
He’d be performing by this point. I was a rapt audience.
“Oxytocin and Vasopressin getting us all wrapped up in each other…don’t leave me! Why hasn’t she texted me back? Aaargh… ah love.”
“You’re such a romantic,” I’d tease.
“I am …Science, your Pheromones are intoxicating!”
And then he’d kiss me.
I return to the carrier, my booted feet dragging and heavy, and not just because of the unyielding sand.
I actually disagree with him that love is just science. Sometimes it’s circumstance. What are the chances of two like us – an Indiana Jones for the Many Worlds age, and a science nerd who grew up barefoot on an island back on Terra Firma – meeting light years and many planets away from where we’d started. The age difference is one thing – he was already 50 and moving through galaxies with the ease of experience when I met him, I was 22 and just out of college and had answered the ad for an apprentice on a whim. He was lonely, I was eager; we were magic.