Terrance passed on Tuesday.
We had been replacing the oxygen filters in a farm pod. He asked me to take the old filters off to recycling while he finished up putting the new ones in. It was a five minute walk down the tubes. No time at all, really.
So when I got back and found the port sealed and the warning lamp flashing the code for a breached hull, I didn’t fully comprehend what had happened.
The technicians determined the breach hadn’t been accidental on Wednesday.
They pumped the pod and collected Terrance’s body, which had bloated slightly after floating in the water for twelve hours. For whatever reason, he’d been clutching at his wrench when he’d died, and the rigor mortis had frozen it in his grip.
So when I received the report in our quarters, I wondered what he could have been thinking.
We buried Terrance on Thursday.
His body was sealed in a steel coffin which they put in the sea floor out next to other crew who had died during the experiment. I was there, watching from an overlook as they laid my husband to rest.
So that they wouldn’t hear my sobs, I kept my suit’s radio off and watched the funeral in silence.
I went back to work on Friday.
The captain wanted to assign me a new partner for my maintenance duties, but I insisted that I’d be fine working alone. I was still grieving, for God’s sake. I just needed some space to sort things out.
So when I found myself alone in another farm pod that needed new oxygen filters that afternoon with a wrench in my hand, I knew I needed to see my husband.
I died on Saturday.
This week’s piece is another entry from i09‘s Concept Art Writing Prompt. Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments.