The clock clicked over for the 3rd day of the new year.
The pilot mused. Strange; our journey through time is a continual forward flow, yet we seem obsessed with confining, segmenting and quantifying.
What is a year? It's the time that small dot does a loop around that larger dot. Zooming out it became so absurd he forgot what he was doing.
The first breath of the new year, a young pilot destroyed small undefended ships. Then the unjust death of an old friend.
Now, outside his cockpit floated carnage; decaying lifepods.
Soon, he'd be recharged. Soon, the wrath.
A really good drabble! Philosophy, action (pending), space battles (past and pending), totally on theme, and not a single hyphen to be found!!! Rep+1