The stench of his own waste greeted him as he moved between the tall towers. That wasn't how you were supposed to greet someone, he thought. - Hugh Howey

I'm coming for you. I'm coming home, I'm coming to clean

The pressure in the airlock grew, and the folds of her suit found every raised scar across her body, wrinkles pressing where wrinkles had once burned. It was a million pricks from a million gentle needles, every sensitive part of her touched all at once, as if this airlock remembered, as if it knew her. A lover's apology.

Sometimes the real looks fake, especially when you’ve looked at the fake for so long.