As Jack looked over his non-fluffy left shoulder, he lingered long enough to watch the sun slide behind the jagged cityscape. He mused over Hill's comment, "The BR0308 only has two life cycles, spanning seven years."
Tomorrow will be my eighth cycle year. Interesting.
Jack tucked his secret behind his cylanoid pocket and waited for the afterglow of sunset to set the skyline on fire. Satisfied with the carrot orange hue, he turned toward the impeding blue-black road ahead and began to hum the tune to Cast Your Fate to the Wind.
Tailer, hidden in the deepening shadows, watched Jack meander away into his false sense of freedom. Little did Jack realize the impact his departure had
on those he left behind.
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