The Man That Watched It Go [A Short Story]

Log Entry: 29

PERSONAL LOG ENTRY: 29
CHARLES F. KING
SEPTEMBER 5th, 2089
LUNAR STATION (USLS)
OCCUPATION: 1
DAYS SINCE ARRIVAL: 288
tIME: 7:41 PM (EST TIME)

Why the hell am I still harvesting moon rocks? None of it matters anymore. I don't care about keeping things "professional" Fuck it. This is all bullshit. I need a beer to make all this pointless shit worthwhile. I worked my isolated ass off every day for the past nine months, with no reward, and not even a message from Miranda. Why did I come up here? I'm such an idiot. I hate it up here. I wish I could just go somewhere and block everything out, forget that Earth was ending and the impossible chance of survival for me. Actually, I think I know of a place. And surprisingly, it's on this vast rock of noth9938775:error----9298583

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I knew the risks of taking the harvester down into the crater. But I didn't care. What did I have to lose? My life? Yeah, because I clearly want to live alone on a boring rock. I realized something in that dark crater. As much as I didn't mind being down there, it's not what I wanted. I remember feeling the same way once: depressed, hopeless, and just utter shit. All the light-hearted conversations I had with Jake were shrouded with thick clouds of darkness. Nothing in my life was enjoyable anymore. All the fun in my job was lost, and became a stretcher for my inevitable death. The closest friends near me are thousands of miles away, and to communicate with them, I'd have to wait five minutes just for my message to send. And Miranda, she... she's somewhere on Earth. Maybe still at her mother's. I wonder what she's doing, and if she has any idea on what's about to happen. People have telescopes. Word must have gotten around, and the next day I'll see a change on the Earth. It's gonna be the apocalypse down before it hits. I just hope her death is quick and painless. This is... Fuck this. None of this matters anymore.