Drabble Series: Distant

I gaze upon the crystal stars, my white breath fogging up the glass. The little cabin grows colder as space invades. This foreign sky holds no constellations for me, nor does its offered beauty, its conciliation, ease my dreading heart. I cannot see their dance, nor hear their song; their times and seasons are strange to me. My tears stick to my face. I wipe them away, but they turn to ice in my hand. My finger’s on the cold glass, and I begin forming in the foggy patch of breath three simple words: Drifting, aimless, attacked. I am alone.