Paul tosses his roll of tools and it descends gracefully in a slow spin into the dusty murk of the thin, lunar, surface gas. It comes into the velvet, gray dirt with a clothy slide. He looks at his handiwork and frowns.
"I told Bill that I was bad with these converting canisters! One more like this and we'll never terraform this damn place!"
Off on the horizon, a shattered Earth reflects a dim sun's light off its craggy, volcanic landscape with a quiet and delicate, bronze glow.
***
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