My friend invented a rocket ship. We went to the moon. We went to Mars. We went to other planets in the solar system. Jupiter, Saturn and Pluto. We went to other solar systems, to exoplanets. We went to other galaxies. We went far, far away. Finally, we turned around and headed home. We landed in my friend’s backyard. We’d been gone for fifty thousand years, though. My friend’s family was dead and forgotten. His house had been demolished and rebuilt many, many times over. The neighborhood had undergone a major transformation. A form of government we were unfamiliar with had been implemented. My family was dead, too. Everybody we’d known was dead. Environmental conditions were different than we remembered. People and other animals had adapted and evolved. Languages had mutated. Nobody understood the things we were saying. Nobody understood us, which was why we’d left to begin with. We fired up the rocket ship again and aimed due north and floored the pedal and managed to breach the partition between the mortal and celestial realms and lived among the gods for eternity. We ate a delicious, exotic salad with mixed fruit and marshmallows.

Pete Riebling lives in Metuchen, New Jersey with his wife, daughter and son and their cat, Mrs. Kisses, and their dog, Opal. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Cosmic Double, Flash Fiction Magazine, NiftyLit, and Ocotillo Review.