When we finally fled to our nearest suns, we had a few favorites at first. The children knew the names and had little songs. People excitedly chose their destinations and formed little rivalries. At one point someone made banners. It was all in good fun.
After the last of the bigger ships, and only the oldest one remained, everyone left knew where they were going. There were no more choices. No more banners. Just one long dirge of the last million, selected to stay behind and be witness to the end. Clustered in the hold of the Intrepid, they sang.
Yes, I am writing these right before I post them.
I don’t stockpile Drabbles, though that would be smart.