digital pen, digital paper.

My breath fogs the helmet a bit. I speak then watch it disappear to pass the time.

I am an astronaut and I am drifting in space.

At least, I think I’m drifting. I can see the Earth, but its size is not changing. I can watch its rotation from where I am, but do not seem to be getting any closer nor further from it. I just sit here in space. No communications, but my life support system is at one-hundred percent. I have been out here for quite some time. A lifetime it feels. And it seems I may die here. No one seems to be aware that I’ve gone missing. Under the radar as they say. Or beyond it, I guess. I think about all of the people down there, going on with their everyday lives, bustling here and there. Things to do. People to see. Loved ones to eventually head home to. I’m not married. No significant relationship to speak of. I’ve got a lot of time to think about that out here. There’s not much else to do.