“That’s it. I’ve fucking had enough.” George threw his food to the floor. “No more.”
“Christ is this it?” He fumed. “Is this all I have to look forward to?” He pushed away from the table and stormed from the room.
He yelled as he walked down the corridor. “No conversation, no calls. No ‘Good Morning, dear’. No. I get up, I have breakfast, I go to work. I come home; I have a bit of lunch; I go back to work. Come home for some dinner….Repeat.” He slammed his fist against the wall.
“I don’t even get any phone calls! No, ‘Alright, George, you coming out for a drink?”
He opened the door to his room and got dressed in angry silence.
Returning to the corridor, he started again. “It was my birthday last week. I didn’t expect songs and a surprise party but a card? Not even a fucking card? It’s like I don’t even fucking exist. Well, no bloody longer, let me tell you.”
He checked his explosives and pulled his backpack on.
“No bloody longer,” he muttered.
He checked his guns and holstered them.
He pulled open the door to the lobby and stood inside.
The chamber lost pressure and George floated out of his solo mining pod and, still cursing like a sailor, set a course for the asteroid belt.
