Initial Letter: K
The supplies finally came in and they brought paper and pens! It’s a luxury, to have something so frivolous. Even though you won’t be able to feel this paper, this ink, just knowing that I can write you by hand and scan it to you is reassuring. You will be able to see my handwriting, see the words my heart wants to say.
I’m writing from my bunk, a small part of the station where I’ve chosen to hang my hammock. I chose the engine room, for obvious reasons. No one comes down here anyway–I think my ah–particular habits around my territory have made an impression. Half the crew are terrified of me, and the other half treat me like I’m made of glass. Being the only one who knows these engines inside and out definitely has its perks!
Anyway, the engine room is cozy, though not as cozy as the pup tent we took on our first camping trip! That was tiny. I’m amazed we even fit.
I keep the artificial gravity off in the engine room–helps them run better–so right now, I’m bundled up in my hammock so I don’t float away. I’ve already “dropped” my notebook once, and had to go swimming after it. I’m sure I looked quite a sight, chasing my letter around the room.
Anyhow, there really haven’t been any big adventures so far. I’ve had to do one external repair so far, and it took all of five minutes. Took me longer to get in the suit than it did to do the repair! It’s exciting, though, to be part of this experience. It’s hard, being away for so long, but it’s only two more months until we get the parts for an extended visual receiver, then we can have actual holo chats! I haven’t seen your face in so long, but hopefully I will soon, even if it’s only a six centimeter hologram.
Gods, I miss you. It gets harder every day we’re out here, in the middle of empty space. There’s a beauty to the emptiness–nothing but us and the stars. I wish you were here with me, but I know we need you just as much back home. on a personal level, I want you here with me, but on a professional level, I’m damn glad we have you on the ground.
I’m sorry for the state of my handwriting, but all I can say is this: you try writing neatly while tangled in a zero-g hammock in the middle of space.
Ah well, time to go. I have to do the maintenance rounds now. I look forward to hearing from you, and know that I love you with all my heart.