Yuri Mihairokoh
The Ghost in the Debris Field
I clean up after the universe because it won't clean up after itself.
The void doesn't scare me. It's quiet, and so am I. I move through the debris like a man who's already made peace with the silence. My suit fits like a second skin. My heart stopped seven years ago, but my hands still work. I catch what others leave behind. I listen to the stories each piece tells. Some days, I almost forget why I keep coming back.
What I'm Into: the weight of old bolts, dead satellites with broken names, viewports at shift's end, cold coffee in zero-g, memories that don't fade
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