For Kim -tail-blazer-: Pining

To watch for the light that loves her back.

A pale blue ion streak, thinner than a thread of spun glass, arcing across the dark. Kim’s signature. The Tail-Blazer. Every pilot in the Scatterhaul Fleet flew by the book—safe trajectories, mapped routes, deference to the gravity wells. But Kim? Kim flew through them. She’d loop a comet’s corona for fun, skim a black hole’s accretion disc like a skipping stone, and leave behind that impossible, shimmering tail: a braid of rogue particles and audacity. Pining For Kim -Tail-Blazer-

Not to watch the stars.

“Always,” Lina replied. She pressed her palm flat against the console, grounding herself. To watch for the light that loves her back