puszysty

Hot Dog brushed some of the excess dirt away from the shallow hole he’d dug in the ground. He paused a moment. Slowly he removed the stack of pictures from his pocket. They were the photos of pilots he’d taken from the memorial wall on Galactica. But there were more photos in the stack too: pictures of officers, marines, citizens. All people who’d died on the journey here.

He took one last glance at the pictures before placing them in the hole he’d created. Then he scooped up the dirt he’d set aside and sprinkled it over the pictures, until the entire stack was covered. It was time someone gave them a proper burial. “Welcome home everybody,” he said. “Welcome home.”