The three crew members burst into uproarious laughter. Haskins slapped his knee, shaking in a primal giddy energy. Rawlings held his stomach, his eyes watering like a leaking faucet or a faulty pipe. Sobotka, who said the joke, smiled wide, bathing in the more secluded and warm moments. He glanced out of the window, observing a sliver of the most desolate area of the Pacific Ocean. The rest of the window was black with distant sprinkles of unknown light.

The laughter continued but slowly fell more and more faint. As Sobotka looked up, his fellow crew members had closed their eyes. They still leaned their bodies in a manner to prevent the inevitable stomach pains. Sobotka had finished laughing and smiled once more. His smile slowly fell into a flat line.

Why couldn’t he hear them? They hadn’t stopped laughing, yet were completely silent. It was too late for Sobotka to notice the flashing red lights coming from the corridor. As his friends began gasping for air to replace what they had expelled in glee, Sobotka froze.

Their faces grew purple. Rawlings held his chest, his lungs expanding like a balloon. The balloon was punctured, but did not pop, instead wheezing air into his circulatory system. As Sobotka slipped into an ethereal cosmic unconsciousness, he felt his tongue boil.

Written by Jagcarnage
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