The Goldfish Threshold

Arriving on time just became the least of Tom's troubles. Welcome to the inaugural installment of the Stasis collection

Photo by Ahmed Zayan on Unsplash

“Why are you slowing down?” Eve asked Tom from the passenger seat.

“I’m not.”

Tom cranked up the heater, pointing the vents toward his hands on the steering wheel. Hot, dry air rushed from deeper within the car, blasting the back of his knuckles. He cast a glance upward at the canopy of stars, cutting through the crisp October night. Incredible, he thought. The only obstruction was the roll cage bars. Before leaving, Tom had removed the roof from his ancient Wrangler to offer a better look at the sky.

“I’ll admit it: you were right. The cold is definitely worth the view,” Eve said. Tom cast her a quick glance. Her hood was drawn tightly around her face. She shrank back into the cloth seats, crossing her arms for warmth.

“There’s a blanket in the back. I thought, wait—I got it for you when we left, didn’t I?”

Eve shook her head.