You know that feeling, Kathy, when you think there’s one more step on the stairs, but there’s not? That half-second of sinking disorientation? That’s what astronauts feel constantly, until we get accustomed.

Sorry I’m rambling, but talking to you helps.

You thought they’d issue me suicide pills before the mission. I laughed, told you that’s a myth—on the station it’s quicker to open an airlock. In any case, astronauts don’t think that way. Before the first moon mission, a reporter supposedly asked one of the crew what he’d do if the lander couldn’t lift off and he got stranded there.

His answer?

“I’d work on the engine.”

See, astronauts can be funny, Kathy! Like I’ve always found space stations in movies funny. When something goes wrong in those, lights start swirling, alarms start blaring, and a voice starts droning, “Emergency, emergency.” As if bad lighting and loud noises would be helpful.

No, the ground crew simply spoke in my ear, saying get my ass to the escape capsule, something was happening. I went, no questions. They’d never joke about that.

The capsule was idiot-proof, always pointed home. Climb in, push a button, and you’re on the ground ASAP. I wasn’t looking forward to shaking my guts out on re-entry, but afterwards I could ask what happened while waiting for the chutes to deploy.

Except there was no shaking. And no communication.

You know that feeling, when you think there’s one more step on the stairs, but there’s not? I’ve felt that way for an hour. The capsule went straight down, but Earth wasn’t there.

Where are you, Kathy?