Billy Buckthorn was thrown violently down, straining as he fell to
retrieve pieces of himself fluttering to the ground in the low gravity
atmosphere. These were the things that kept him from becoming detached.
From what he couldn’t say. But he had been losing himself out here for
a while now. He stared at a photo of early Elvis that lay scattered
amongst his things. There it was, the coolest man who ever lived. Life
was getting hot, really hot, and he could have used some of that
coolness now.