The Wistful Letter

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2026-08-19 02:55:43 -

The door was iron. Cold. Rusty. It hung in the void. No frame. No wall. Just the metal slab. And the air. Thin. Sharp. Tasting of copper. "You are late, Captain." The voice came from nowhere. Or everywhere. Miles stood still. His boots made no sound. On the floor of glass. He looked up. At the sky. It was not a sky. It was a ceiling. Of stars. Dead stars. Frozen. Bright. "Who are you?" Miles...

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