Thousand: Seven Hundred Twenty-Eight

It’s going to be a long journey. The comet’s curve toward the sun is wide and slow. I like slow. You? Every day things are getting slower. The slower things go the slower time goes. It’s not like you can live at your regular speed while all around you everything slows. You gotta slow, too. In a sense, if you slow at the same rate time slows, it’s as though nothing’s changed. Time keeps at its familiar clip. As far as you can tell. Maybe you’ll live ten thousand years, rather than sixty. Sixty-five? The comet is chock full of