Ray Bradbury |link|: Kaleidoscope

“Listen to me, Hollister. When you hit atmosphere—and you will, your trajectory says so—you’ll burn. But for one second, one forever , you’ll be a shooting star. A child in Iowa will see you. Or a farmer in Ukraine. Or a girl on a rooftop in Tokyo, counting wishes.”

He laughed.

Hollister tumbled alone, his suit’s radio a graveyard of whispers. kaleidoscope ray bradbury

Hollister spun alone for a long while. He watched Earth grow from a marble to a melon to a world. The air in his suit tasted of iron and autumn. He thought of his own front porch. The rake leaning against the elm tree. The smell of rain on hot concrete. “Listen to me, Hollister