When the Sky Tightens

To: Myung-ho
Subject: One more orbit

Myung-ho,

We’re starting the final checks soon. The ground station is already running through the list. In a few minutes, we’ll confirm alignment and initiate the sequence. After that… there’s no pause button.

I keep thinking about the tiles.

I saw the damage. Not all of it, but enough to feel it in my spine. There are fractures — small, maybe, but not invisible. And the reentry doesn't care how small a crack is. The atmosphere has no mercy. Only velocity. Only heat.

They know. And I know. But there’s no turning back.

Our oxygen is dropping fast. Tank 2 is almost empty, and the backup isn’t holding pressure the way it should. If we wait, we lose our window — and maybe more than that.

So we go.

I’m scared, Myung-ho. I won’t pretend otherwise. I’ve never said that to you before. But now, I need you to hear it — not because I’ve lost control, but because I’m still here. Still feeling.

Still yours.

I want to see you again. I want your arms around me like gravity. I want to lie beside you on the grass and name every star we can’t reach. I want the sky to be simple again — just sky. No systems. No sequence. Just breath and silence and your hand in mine.

If this letter reaches you, and I don’t…
Tell them I went with my eyes open.
Tell them I tried to come home.

And if I do make it — if the shield holds and the capsule finds its way through —
then please don’t let go when I find you.

One more orbit. That’s all.
After that, I fall.

Into air. Into fire.
Into you.

— E.