The Distant Promise
What does it cost to hold the light? I stood before the lease, the pen trembling in a hand that had held steel rods and rebar for a decade. The paper was thin, translucent as the membrane of a lung, and the ink smelled of iron. I am Noraini binte Salleh, and I was thirty-four years old, a structural engineer on the generation ship Kuala Lumpur, where the air was recycled until it tasted of dust...
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