The outpost stood alone on the red dunes, the sunset bleeding into the Martian sky. Inside, Cora watched the horizon, the stillness unbroken.

“Another day,” she said, the words flat, to no one. The radio crackled—a voice from Earth, hours old. Reports. Instructions. Cora listened, then turned it off.

She stepped outside, the sand cooling fast, and looked back at the outpost. Lights blinked. Machines hummed. Life, of a sort. She thought of Earth’s blue oceans, green forests. Distant. Unreachable.

The airlock hissed shut behind her, sealing her in with the memory of Earth’s sky. She pulled the photo from her pocket, creased and faded—a tree, a real tree.

Night fell. The stars came out. They were the same stars, whether seen from Earth or Mars. That thought used to comfort her. Now, it felt like a taunt.

Cora folded the photo, tucked it away, and glanced up once more. Tomorrow, she would do it all again. For now, she watched the stars, the silence her companion.

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