It is black here, between the stars. You tend to assume while standing on Earth, even on the darkest night, that there is a background glow of stars everywhere. That there is always enough light to see something. True enough, if there were something close enough to see.
My suit is silver and sure, hugging me warmly. Reassuring me with the gentle hiss of fresh air. There is a lifetime warranty stamp on the inside of my helmet, so I'm relaxing. It's a Braurman Deepspace Special, a good brand name and a good model number. The light on the inside of the helmet would last a year on its self-contained battery, but I turn it off to enjoy the faraway scenery.
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So nice to see a sci-fi poem, with a story component that sticks with the genre and makes you think!