Written for the August 16th Flash Fiction Challenge
I was twenty-four the last time it came, that periodic star that causes ships to ground. She was twenty-six. We drove to the desert’s edge and climbed Blue Mesa in the dark; leaving behind the city lights, the traffic sounds, and the strains of club music that floated incessantly through the downtown streets. In the stillness, we spread our blanket and made love waiting for and watching Edmund Halley’s dirty snowball with its retrograde orbit and curved tail. She speculated that lovers had done the same for thousands of years before and will continue to until the comet dies.
The prompt and instructions were:
In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a comet. You can consider how it features into a story, influences a character, or creates a mood. Go where the prompt leads.