Just a little bit of world.

Ignam took one final deep breath and opened his eyes, taking in the grand, coal-black tree before him; as a sapling, all those years ago, it had been easy to bring in and plant on the small, artificial hill; now, removing it from the globe of transparisteel would be nearly impossible. Its purple and blue leaves swayed gently in the breeze, ocassionally dropping off and falling to the blue grass, or into the light pink water; autumn was coming, as it had been for the past six-hundred years. It was always nearly autumn, thanks to the climate control system of his ship.

Ignam stood, his joints aching from prolonged sitting, three distinct cracks letting him know he wasn't getting any younger as he unfurled his legs and stood at full height. He bowed to the tree, lowering himself with his forehead nearly to the floor, then stood straight and turned. He took the short path to the rest of his ship, walking down a smooth, stone-studded tunnel and into the ship proper, where the remnants of his dead homeworld gave way to tubular hallways with off-white walls and dark-colored tapestries draped at irregular intervals. He came to his office, a modest library of antique paper and modern plastic books and tablets, with its desk of the same wood as the tree in the atrium, the chair padded in deep red; on the table sat a modern interpretation of an ancient writing device, the keys designed to embed plastic sheets with letters.

He sat at his desk, leaned back, and sighed. Back to work, he thought, his fingers dancing over the keys.

"A little before dawn, just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, the two lovers dozed beneath the tree they had stumbled upon in the night..."