Romey and I are still halfway across the country from each other, which is not fun. One of the things we do to cope with long distance is to make up writing prompts for each other and then read the short stories that come from them. Here’s one story I wrote after a prompt from Romey and a little sketch:
They thought the dirigible wouldn’t be ready for another two days. Three- tops. But they got a second opinion and it turned out that they had the part they’d needed all along! Oh, what luck.
Though, of course, I do not like spontaneity, no not one bit. And though I am a learned man, I find myself unable to cope with unexpected circumstances such as these. My bags are disorganized! And my books on the free-floating islands of the micro-pacific are barely annotated!
But the captain says he wants to leave today. Who am I to say otherwise? I’m just lowly Dr. Fitzgerald Featherston, writer of numerous published articles and one highly-revered geology textbook. But, oh! This humble man of letters must do as he’s told.
Which is why I want to speak with mother, you see. Operator, if you could just try her one more time? Are you sure she’s not answering? Perhaps she’s having her evening constitutional. But there’s something she doesn’t know! I’m not coming back. I’ve decided to live out my days amongst the natives, and as such will not be able to phone her. Please make sure she gets this message.