Just a Moment

More about Just a Moment

She had arrived.

The coordinates were correct, the orbit stable, the light exactly as forecast. The
planet with its pale rings hung where it always would, ancient and indifferent, doing
what it had done long before anyone thought to look up and give it a name. None of
that required her attention anymore.

So she turned—not out of urgency, not out of awe, but because this was the instant
she had come for. A pause taken deliberately, wrapped in warmth against the cold,
held long enough to be remembered. Exploration could resume in a breath. History
could wait another heartbeat. For now, the universe was sufficient as scenery, and
she allowed herself the smallest smile, as if to say that even here, at the edge of
distance and scale, there was still room for a personal moment—chosen, claimed,
and quietly complete.