I watched your reflection vanish from the mirror as your hand slipped from the doorframe and the room exhaled like it had been waiting to forget you. The wood creaked once beneath your weight and then did not remember it anymore and I understood too late that whatever we were had already crossed the point where staying meant losing each other in different ways. The house stood at the edge of the marsh where the ground never fully decided whether it was land or water. Mist rose each evening and pressed its damp breath against the walls. Inside the air always felt slightly cooler than outside as if the rooms…

The launch tower disengaged and her scarf slipped from my fingers as the shuttle rose into cloud and the sky tilted subtly away from us as if it had already decided who would stay and who would leave. The platform trembled beneath my boots. Steam rolled across the deck carrying the smell of fuel and rain. Above us the clouds hung low and gray pressed together like a held thought. She stood at the threshold of the shuttle with one hand on the frame and one hand still half reaching back toward me. The wind tugged at her scarf and then claimed it. I caught the end for a breath…

The waterline alarm chimed once and the gate sealed between us and her hand slid from the glass slick with condensation while the harbor lights shifted and pretended nothing irreversible had happened. The pressure chamber filled with a low steady hum as the ocean pressed back into its proper place. Bubbles spiraled past the viewport like thoughts escaping. She stood on the other side in a suit marked with surface insignia while I remained in station gray. Our reflections overlapped briefly then separated as the water darkened. I pressed my palm to the glass and felt the cold bite through the glove. Her fingers mirrored mine for a breath and…

The frost bloomed across the viewport as the shuttle detached and her exhale clouded once and vanished while mine kept going and the silence between our breaths became permanent. The hangar was quiet in the way cold spaces are quiet. Sound did not travel far. The floor radiated a faint chill through my boots. Overhead the lights were tuned low to conserve heat and they cast soft halos that never quite touched. She stood inside the shuttle doorway wrapped in a thermal coat too large for her frame. I stood at the safety line with my hands clasped because I did not trust them loose. The clamps released with a…

The transit beam ignited and her reflection slid across the glass ahead of her body and my hand lifted too late to catch either while the platform lights dimmed as if acknowledging something already decided. The station was carved into pale stone and smelled of dust and charged air. Heat radiated from the beam channel and raised a shimmer that bent edges and softened faces. People stood in neat intervals pretending to be patient. She stood one step beyond the safety line with her pack resting against her boot. I stood behind it where waiting was permitted. The distance was small and absolute. When the beam stabilized it made a…

The outer hatch cycled shut and her palm slid from my sleeve as pressure equalized and the airlock lights softened and my mouth formed her name too late for sound to matter. The chamber smelled of coolant and clean metal. Frost crept in delicate veins along the rim of the door where her breath had lingered. Through the small window I could still see her helmet light hovering steady as a thought she refused to finish. My hand hovered where her arm had been. The suit glove felt oversized and useless. Somewhere the station adjusted its spin and the floor vibrated just enough to remind me that physics would continue…

The sun slipped behind the orbital shield and her silhouette dissolved into shadow while my fingers brushed the sleeve she was already pulling away and the sky finished a day we would never return to. The balcony wrapped around the habitat like a held breath. Below us the planet glowed faintly blue through layers of atmosphere and cloud. Wind moved through the open vents carrying the smell of cold metal and distant storms. The lights along the railing adjusted automatically softening as night cycle engaged. She did not look back at me. She watched the horizon as if it were something that might answer her. I kept my hand lifted…

The console light dimmed and her voice cut off mid word and my hand reached for the speaker as if touch could restore sound while the room continued breathing without her. The comm chamber was small and overly warm. Panels hummed softly. A faint vibration traveled through the floor from the station core and settled into my bones. The screen held her frozen expression for a second longer than it should have. Then it cleared to status text and numbers that meant nothing. I kept my fingers lifted. The air felt thicker where her voice had been. Outside the narrow window the planet glowed a soft green edged with cloud.…

The moment the shuttle eased away from the dock her shadow stayed behind on the concrete floor and my hand closed around air where her sleeve had been and the light shifted as if the port itself understood what had just ended. The harbor dome was filled with pale morning glow filtered through layers of glass and salt residue. Outside the sea moved in slow dark sheets. Inside the dock workers moved with practiced calm pretending not to notice the stillness between us. I stood at the edge line where passengers were not allowed to linger. The floor was cool through my boots. Her shadow thinned and stretched and then…

The lift doors slid apart and she stepped back instead of forward and the space between us filled with the quiet hum of machinery while my outstretched hand realized too late that it was empty. The corridor was narrow and bright and smelled of disinfectant and warm metal. A panel flickered overhead as if uncertain about the moment. Her breath fogged briefly in the cooler air before she turned her face away. I said her name once. The sound fell flat against the floor and did not rise again. The doors closed with a soft final click that felt smaller than grief and heavier than noise. I stood there long…