THE FLARE OF MY THRUSTERS BURNS LIKE TINY SUNS IN THE SEA OF STARLIGHT ALL AROUND HER. WHEN THE LIGHT THAT KISSES THE BACK OF HER EYES WAS BIRTHED, HER ANCESTORS WERE NOT YET BORN. HOW MANY HUMAN LIVES HAVE ENDED IN THE TIME IT TOOK THAT LIGHT TO REACH HER? HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE LOVED ONLY TO HAVE LOST? HOW COUNTLESS, THE HOPES THAT HAVE DIED? [BUT STILL…] NOT THIS ONE.
