The flames in the electric fireplace flickered softly, and the leather sofa reflected a faint, cold sheen. The wine in the glass on the coffee table had been drained, leaving only a trace of residue on the sides, and there was not much left in the bottle either. Slightly tipsy, Hal leaned against one end of the sofa, thinking back to that especially lively Christmas. The lingering warmth of those cozy moments remained, but it could not completely dispel the faint gloom in his heart.
Seaside City did not get snow, but when winter typhoons swept through, rain battered the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sky turned dark and overcast, and clouds hung so low they seemed ready to press down. Hal felt it would be better if it simply snowed properly.
Suddenly, his phone rang. Hal answered, and Carol's voice came through. "Sorry, Hal, but you probably really can't return to your old position. It doesn't have much to do with the previous accident. They're just not hiring anymore. They've even cut back on fighter pilots. If you don't want to fly commercial, you can only switch to space work."
"I understand. Thank you, Carol." Hal wiped his forehead from bottom to top, brushed his hair back, and said, "I really haven't been in very good shape lately. I might not be able to handle that kind of work either. I'm considering finding some temporary work..."
"No matter what, I love you," Carol said. "Don't put too much pressure on yourself. Take good care of yourself. Once I'm done with this busy stretch, we can plan a trip."
"Okay. I'll wait for you. Goodbye."
After hanging up, Hal collapsed back onto the sofa. He picked up the application form beside him and hesitated for a long while before making a call.