“Which chamber do you want?” Marc asked.
“Can’t I share yours?” Sylvie said.
“No. There’s only room for one and once they turn the screws tight, compressing the chamber, the pressure increases. The pain. You’d kill someone else if they were in with you.”
“Oh. That sounds dreadful.”
“That’s nothing. Then they start tipping and tilting and rotating the chambers until your stomach heaves. You have to pee and shit in a bag. When the bag splits from the high pressure it stinks like hell.”
“That’s it. I’m out of here.” Sylvie said.
Marc smiled. “That’s another wannabee astronaut gone.”
Rochelle hosts Friday Fictioneers each week. All are welcome to join in and write a 100 word flash, then add their link via the blue frog found on her site. Otherwise use the blue frog to see other people’s responses to the photo prompt which this week is courtesy of Claire Fuller.