The Wistful Saga
Zainab Mensah remembers the sound of the glass shattering before she sees the light break. It is a Tuesday, three months later, and the heat is a physical weight, pressing against the habitat module’s hull like a hand. She stands in the workshop, the one with the missing bench, and listens to the silence that follows the crack. The air is heavy with ozone and old sweat. She knows exactly where...
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