I want nothing more than to smell these roses.
My family. I will never see them, again. My crew. Rescue … is improbable. If I’m recovered at all, it will be frozen. My visor furred with frost. Turning and turning.
The Earth is far away. The Sun. There are no stars here. We had reached the black region, at last. The Mysteries. The journey… It took all our lives.
It took all our lives.
The roses. They’re blackened, and fragile. The petals. They’re crumbling away. One by one. They’re floating away.
The roses. Holding them is something. Some comfort. It’s something. But smelling them. If I could do no more, and in them find a last breath of sweetness…
I want nothing more than this.