Unfinished Trajectories

She boards alone. Small blue case held against her chest.

She does not sleep after orbit clearance.

The cabin dims. She opens the case. Her face changes.

Paper photographs — actual paper, bent from handling. A shoulder in a crowd. A reflection in glass. A figure blurred by rain. She arranges them carefully across the tray table. Corners aligned. She is quiet for a long time.

She begins to speak. Some things arrive in fragments first. A sentence overheard in the wrong city. A handwriting recognized before it was read.

She turns to the window. Outside, deep void. Stars at uncertain distances.

Two people can spend entire lives approaching each other without arriving. Space contains many unfinished trajectories.

She replaces each photograph carefully. Checks the edges. Closes the case.

I carry people. Their words travel with them.