Coded on a secondhand datapad in a run-down motel room in Mos Eisley, deleted and never sent: Everything about us was a whirlwind.
Written on a scrap of durasheet in a Tion Cluster outpost, the words fading after a while into air and ghosts: You shouldn't have forgiven me for any of it.
Scraped into the bark of an oak tree on the Argazdan homeworld: You won't believe the dreams I have about you.
Not Diasterisms' best work, and not the one I would recommend out of her library, but it's still a few times better than published authors so yes, if you have read her other works and you are still craving for more, go for it, it's awesome! Short story (<10K words)