Dear Emily,
It has been twenty-three days since my last transmission. That’s twenty-three days too long, my darling.
And sadly, it seems it will be longer. Things have not gone well up here.
It seems science is not quite a science, and the scientists are not gods after all. There is a mechanical problem on the base, the details I will not bore you with.
But I fear this problem to be catastrophic. And I find myself unable to assume the eight month journey home. In fact, I may not be coming home at all.
You are the love of my life, Emily. Seven years together has not been long enough. I see you each time I close my eyes. I see you in the red, rock faces of this barren planet. I see you in my reflection in the morning, and wonder how I breathe without you.
I hope you remember me when you see the stars. They aren’t nearly as brilliant without you here to share.
I hope you remember that this was my last transmission. And forgive me for not sending more.
I hope you try to love my mother. She raised me and you love me. There must be some common ground there.
Live well and be happy, my lovely Emily. Thank you for sticking by my decisions, as stupid as they seemed.
You were right, by the way. I should have been an accountant.
I love you for eternity,
Daniel
About the Creator
Kelley Zherzhi
Grew up on a steady diet of Tom Robbins and Stephen King.
Spinning tales in the quiet moments between motherhood and building a business.
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