Wednesday has come around again and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.
Engines rumbled as if the machines had grown impatient under the ledge where he sat, but still Hawne would not be moved. He happily munched his sandwich and ignored the chiming comm unit.
Hawne knew what they wanted, so Cottom huffing his way up the stairs didn’t disturb him.
“Hawne!” Cottom clomped up the last steps. “Get you space blasted self out of here.”
“Nooope.” Hawne turned his sandwich over selecting the next bite slowly. “Not finished eating yet.”
Cottom thrust his fists into his sides. “But you’ve been eating for–” The man consulted the timepiece affixed to his wrist. “26 cycles.”
“Yeah.” Hawne flicked a tiny bit of stale bread over the ledge. “I’ve been rushing, and rushing eating isn’t smart.”
“You don’t have a stomach,” Cottom muttered.
Hawne raised an eyebrow. “Better than not having a soul.”
Cottom sighed, loud and dramatic. “What will it take to get you moving?”
Lifting the sandwich, Hawne opened his mouth wide, stopped, and lowered it again. “Nope, that’s not the bite. And you already know what.”
“I can’t give them what you what,” Cottom protested, nearly whined.
“Can’t or won’t?” Hawne glanced up from his meal. Cottom’s mouth opened as his face burned red, but no noise came out. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s what I thought. Now don’t bother me.”
And will be until you settle, he thought. Cottom could bluster, but Hawne wasn’t budging. The truth array remained until he did. Let them stew in the truth.
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