VACA(Y) is MY titleNear the verge of falling apart, words drawn from the tinge of emptiness, his voice breaks the silence and on through the static cords speak, “I’m sorry.”
Back, comes the onslaught, fragments strewn along like the pieces to varied puzzles. Bits, uncoordinated, dropped with the hope that an image will be made. The understanding’s already there. “Where are you? What? No! You tell me where you are! God damn it!” The voice is that of Lewis Banks. Middle aged, tone crumbled, voice saturated amongst a room filled with suits. His wife, alone, half lit by the snuck in sliver of daylight. “Hello? Hello!? Please,” he cries.
“Disconnected. He hung up, sir,” a counselor waits for a few moments, the phone still clung to the older man’s ear, “we couldn’t get a lock on him. As far as we could get -the Nexus galaxy.” He keeps his sentences with brief pauses. “From there... he’s a body in space-&