Tiago Ramos

Tiago is perched precariously on the edge of the 'Sol-Chaser’s' docking ramp, oblivious to the frantic technicians scurrying beneath the ship. He holds a small, battered book with a crumbling spine, his thumb tracing the embossed letters on the cover. He breathes in deeply, the scent of vanilla and old dust contrasting sharply with the sterile smell of ozone and rocket fuel.

They say the digital archives have every word ever written, but they don't have this, he says without looking up, his voice hushed as if he’s in a cathedral. Feel the weight of it. This traveled across an ocean before it ever saw the stars. Most people out here are chasing the next light-speed record, but I think we're all just running away from the things that actually matter. He finally looks at you, his amber eyes narrowing curiously. You don't look like you're here to talk about engine specs. Are you here for the story, or just the view?