Here’s my entry for the Weekly Writing Challenge at the Blurred Line Blog.
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- The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. “They’re all leaving,” he said in that dead voice of his, leaving no space for doubt between the words. Each tiny black dot a spacecraft carrying wives, husbands, children away from this place, out into the dull grey void. “Are you sure you want to stay?” His voice still deadpan dull, for he already knew the answer.