Fuck. Gorgeous as usual.
Hair flowing against the backdrop of the milky way. The light from the tablet illuminates her sharp face.
and
She flings herself at me, and I hold out my arms. We end up crashing on the glass cupola, where the stars surround us with their glimmer, and the Earth is a pinpoint of light in the cosmos.
Oh wait - that's nearly the whole thing. There's something beautiful about your writing I can't replicate - it's the Ballard/Gibson/Mievelle kinda thing.
With a bit of Heinlien/Asimov/Le Guin, perhaps. I don't know. Maybe it's just the floating against the stariverse.
Thank you, @riverflows! Writing about space puts me in a trance and in the mood. There is just something very sensual about the idea of floating about in a weightless medium, as I'm sure you know given your surfing habits ;) Generally, on land, our body knows its predefined routines. Move forward to the nourishing, backwards away from the toxic, and sideways to avoid getting run over. In space, it's all multi-spatial and omni-directional, so I think that trying to envision that micro-gravity environment, gets me high in a manner of speaking, and maybe it also has an effect on my writing. Or maybe it was just the weed I smoked. :)
I couldn’t say it better myself