Mountain climbing

Eloa stepped out of the building, blinking his way into the bright outside world. He peered up at the rocket and suddenly stopped in his tracks. It was silhouetted against the sun, a tall dark spire standing prominently in the mid-morning sky, with sharp white light glinting through the cockpit windows.

He stood there, mouth open, for several seconds. Davor paused beside him, looking up at the rocket and back at him. “She sure is a beaut, isn’t she?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he laughed, a hearty, lively laugh that seemed to fill his whole soul. A celebration. An awakening. A rebirth.

“What is it, Eloa?”

“This is it, Davor, this is it! The black mountain! Of course! This is it!” He breathed deeply, grinning broadly, looking up at the rocket and waving his arms. “Ha! This is it!”

“Black mountain, Eloa? The ship is white.”

“It’s not the ship, it’s the dream. Can’t you see? It’s the dream,” Eloa said.

“We’ve both worked hard for this day. I can scarcely believe it’s come. I think it must be everybody’s dream.”

“Not just a dream. The dream. The black mountain.” He stood fixed in place, eyes fixed on the rocket, his face jubilant.

“Come on, Eloa, let’s get moving. We don’t want a last-minute psych evaluation changing the seating arrangements.” Davor grabbed Eloa’s sleeve and tugged, pulling him forward.

Eloa followed him, still staring at the ship. “Yahoo! I’m going mountain climbing! Finally!”

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