text | un: m.cabrera

[naloxone]

[ turns out? space doesn't give a single fuck about your circadian rhythm. or maybe insomnia is just that attached to her that even the absence of a sun dictating her internal clock doesn't faze it, like an old friend you wish would just forget you already.

one night (?) late into the early hours (???) marta finds herself drifting out of the room she's come to assume will be hers for the indefinite future, passing through stark white walls with all the sterility of a hospital, but none of its familiar chaos.

she's still getting used to the earpiece. still getting used to hearing other people's voices in her head. she doesn't mean to add another in the void, but one of her own thoughts blares out too vividly as she stares out into an actual void: ]

—but where are the stars?

Comments

[scarcastically]

I'm only half-american. It helps.

[naloxone]

Does it make you less susceptible?

[scarcastically]

Just a bit.

[naloxone]

I'm an immigrant.

[ it comes out before she can help it, and for a brief second she feels a spike of worry—

but then she remembers she's in space. the rules are a little different here, aren't they? ]

How much hope do I have?

[scarcastically]

Just enough to get by.

But I get the feeling you hold more than that.

[naloxone]

[ there's a pause on her end. ]

I have to.

[scarcastically]

Have to?

[naloxone]

[ what do you do when you can't lie? deflect deflect deflect. ]

We're all here for a reason, aren't we?
Just by being here... that's already having a lot of hope.

[scarcastically]

I think you might be reading too much into it.

[naloxone]

That's not the case for you?

[scarcastically]

I guess I lean more on the pragmatic.

[naloxone]

Mm. Prepare for the worst, be pleasantly surprised if it works out?

[scarcastically]

That's the idea. Everything in balance.

[naloxone]

What about wishes? Do you not make those either?

[scarcastically]

Nah. Not really a fairytale kind of guy.

[naloxone]

Have you ever had a birthday?

[scarcastically]

None that I can remember.

[naloxone]

Have I been talking to a baby this whole time?

[scarcastically]

Just one of the poor people.

[naloxone]

[ oh. WELL NOW SHE FEELS BAD. ]

You don't need a party for it to be a birthday.
You don't even need a cake for the wish. Just a candle.

[scarcastically]

And I told you. I don't remember. Not saying it never happened. Just that I don't remember the good. I was an orphan and the system doesn't exactly play nice.

[naloxone]

No, I meant...


Would you like one now?

[scarcastically]

What, now? Right now?

[naloxone]

[ it's a couple of minutes before she responds. ]

I found a candle.

[scarcastically]

[ okay so right now was the answer ]

Congrats?