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Space. I’ve heard it called the final frontier, the last hope for mankind, where all dreams can still come true, and a variety of other noble-sounding phrases.

Know what space really is?

It’s the dull stuff in between planets.

Planets, now planets are where it’s at. People. Women. A wide variety of women. Anything worthwhile’s on a planet. Unless, of course, it’s on a supply or transport ship, going from one planet to another.

The one good thing about space? It’s a great place to hide if you’ve relieved someone on a planet or a transport of what matters to them.

Not that I do that all the time. Well, not often. Well, not every day, okay?

You know, I left home because of this kind of pressure.


Never a day I haven’t been glad of that choice. Great-Aunt Clara, wherever you are: Thanks. I like life a lot better now that I’m nowhere near you.

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Framed