The Four Sentence Short Story

“Clark…what are you doing, Clark?” The disemboweled voice sang into his mind, a dream of hope was her voice. Entropy and heat death had long taken the planet. His blue suit was dark and worn with time, “I’m not gone, I am just quiet,” the voice whispered into his memories. Her voice was his only comfort. Time took his words, “I will never be able to grow up and I longed to grow old with you.”