Peanuts & Bologna Studios

They say love can cross any distance, but what about the distance between hearts?

He left Earth not just in body, but in mind. Somewhere along the way, between dreams and disappointments, between all the things he couldn’t say—he drifted. And though he stands right in front of her, in a way that only love can manifest, he’s a thousand miles away.

She stands on the edge of Earth, beneath the endless sky, her eyes closed, tears quietly falling. She doesn’t cry because he’s gone—she cries because she still feels him. Because she’s still waiting. Her heart never left orbit.

In the reflection of his helmet, we see her… not because he’s looking at her, but because she’s become the last thing tethering him to anything real. The moon beneath him is cold and silent, like the space between them. He doesn’t know how to come home. Not really. Maybe he doesn’t believe he deserves to.

This piece is about the kind of love that stays when it shouldn’t have to. The kind that waits. The kind that lives in the space between people who used to be closer than skin.
He’s out there. She’s right here.
And somehow, they’re still holding on.
Just… not together.