John looked up at the red sulfuric atmosphere. He had dreamed of coming to this distant moon for as long as he had known about it. And his favorite thing to do was to get on his gear and go surfing across the waves which covered most of the planet. Above him his ship hovered and he skimmed along in a rig he worked out himself.
         It wasn't quite like home though. With his helmet he couldn't feel the breeze through his hair, he couldn't feel the spray of water on his face. Of course this was no Big Sur, this wasn't chilly salt water he was surfing in. It was a slightly poisonous frothy slime that wasn't strong enough to eat through his space suit, but would certainly do a number on his skin.
         At this point though, he wasn't sure if he could last much longer. All hope of rescue had gone away years ago. Would the new generations of astronauts even remember that he was out here? His radio equipment was spotty, so he wasn't sure if his calls back to Earth were being received.
         All of this brought tears to his eyes. He had come here like no one else had, but what had he missed at home?
         Slowly John unzipped his space suit, wriggled out of it, and kicked into the sea. The splash of the otherworldly liquid splashed against him and started shredding up his undergarments. John's tears were drying up now as he found his resolve.
         He unsnapped his helmet. As soon as he took it off the atmosphere would tear up his lungs. He took a deep breath, and then took it off. He set it down in the waves where it bobbed a bit. With the last bit of air, John gave the camera in his helmet a hang-ten and then let go.