The tether clicks; she steps into darkness. Floating into the void, she looks back at the station. It's empty. It has to be for her measurements to be precise. Only she can do this research. She reminds herself every morning why she's here.
Day Twelve she writes at the beginning of today's log. She records radiation levels, noting an interesting spike. She writes down everything that might be useful to her research.
A sound. Something against her helmet. A tap? A piece of debris? No. Nothing. It was always nothing. With all that she's recording, there's always nothing. Must be her imagination.
Day Thirteen. More measurements. More nothing. She stares into nothing. Tap tap. She turns to look at the sound. This time she sees something. No. She sees Nothing. She reaches out. She touches Nothing. She's starting to doubt her mind.
No. She's a scientist. Her mind is the only thing she can trust. She brushes it off. She has to be able to trust her mind, or there's no reason for her to be here. Back to the station for the day. She needs to rest.
Day Fourteen. More measurements. Tap tap tap. She doesn't look this time. She closes her eyes. She takes a deep breath, and then slowly looks up at Nothing.
She's gotten used to the quiet. She knows nobody was there to hear her. And in space, as they say, nobody can hear you scream. She screamed anyway.
Today's entry for Thursday Threads. 244 words.
@danjones000 Thanks for writing! #ThursThreads #FlashFiction