Moon (Fraction)

It was frightening at first how during the days after the final blow of marbles to the slow settling dust of her great orbiting satelite body, it didn’t feel so much that she was slowly moving outward, as much as it stemmed from his gut that maybe he was the one softly fading with time, that he was somehow losing the pull of the gravity that had been so much a fifth or sixth appendage to him, depending on perspective, for years. It was as though, instead of the cold cut of a knife, the apendage of the moon’s gravity which had been more to him like a umbillibal chord and less to him like an arm, there was only the feeling of space between his stomach and what had lain just beyond not months ago, days.
slowly realizing through weeks that it was not he that was shrinking away, growing more finite, as if he was somewhere far off on a slow treadmill, but her that, without any choice of her own [as, in fact had been his doing, his slingshot, his marbles, the burden that he forced on her that pushed her to the point], had begun to fall away; the centripetal momentum being the driving force that began the slow, near-planetary slingshot trajectory of her away from him.


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