She leaned over me. Her face, awash with worry, was fragmented as it was obscured by the crack in my helmet.
"Look at me," she said, reaching out and grasping my hand, "We'll get out of this."
"It's too late," I replied, eyes filling with tears. The crack in the glass was growing bigger.
She leaned down and tapped her helmet against mine, "I'm sorry I can't kiss you one last time." Even if I removed mine, she couldn't remove hers.
"I'm sorry too. Now go."