As the press of G-force eased, Lyria slowly leaned forward, to the extent that she could - just enough to bring a millimetre of space between her shoulders and the seat. Her ears popped in a way she’d never felt before, like a balloon bursting around her head. The rocket’s propulsion held a steady presence at her back. It felt only slightly different to normal gravity.
She glanced sideways. Tylen, her son, sat cross-armed and scowling at the screen in the chair back that was in front of him. The angle didn’t give her much, but the colours were unmistakeable.
She reached across the aisle and put a hand on the boy’s arm. 'It’s alright.'
She waggled her fingers at the receding image of Earth on the screen - a blue and green and brown orb, now tinged purple and lime, a composite of eighteen rearview cameras, the pilot had told them.
'It’s just for now. We’ll be back again, one day. When all this is over.'
Copyright Matt Jackson