There I sat. Captivated. Staring.Wondering. The man. He stood, now an old and crippled, but he still seemed to be young as he gathered all of the kids in the library for story time. He spoke of an astronaut flying through space. He described the astronaut floating in the ship.
           Once arriving at the nearest space station, he boarded. That astronaut had the simple but yet the best job on the planet, to fly from space station to space station and make sure that everything was in order and running smoothly. At a space  station by the name of Salyut, the astronaut found a leak in the gas tube, if not fixed could blow Salyut to the ground.
          A hour later the astronaut and his partner, Bart, assembled the correct tools for the job. Soon they were tirelessly working on repairing the leak. It was to late. The thick tubes popped one after the other. The astronaut told his partner to plot the escape pod's coordinates while he directed Salyut away from earth. The two would meat up in one minuet at the pod or become brain dead. At the fifty-sixth second mark Bart decided to find the astronaut instead of departing. Next, he found the astronaut laying unconscious. Bart carried his brain dead partner back to the pod. Later, they safely came home to earth. 
           The story was over. That was quick, I thought, and what a terrible ending, no wonder it was an old man. Then as the man turned to leave a picture of an astronaut fell out of his pocket. I picked it up and saw a name, Bart, written across the picture, and my eyes lit up once more.

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