Slowly, an arm, a second, a head.
The mans body that once laid upon a tight vacuum of space now engulfed within the cold grasps of the air, the stale, musty air, almost metallic.
Dried blood suffocated him, his eyes crusted shut, his ears encased and his nose engulfed, he breathed only through a small slit that ran like a canyon down his lip.
Hours had passed yet the man moved not, his eyes fixed in place, unwavering in their stance, for he was not a solider facing an army without scare, he was an expendable, replaceable asset that was facing the dead cold eyes of Deus.
A man he knew little of, yet the sight.