“Don’t look at Earth,” Stone whispered. “Promise me.”
But Hollister looked.
“It’s real enough,” Les replied, and then his voice melted into a hymn. kaleidoscope ray bradbury
He laughed.
“I see my son,” said another voice. Les. The youngest. His tether had snapped an hour ago, and now he was cartwheeling toward the sun. “He’s six. He’s building a rocket out of cardboard. I’m inside it. We’re laughing.” “Don’t look at Earth,” Stone whispered