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]

Don't need one. I have magic spells.

Also we're really doing this? Really?

[naloxone]

[ of course he has magic spells... ]

Only if you want.
You can always say no.

[scarcastically]

I just don't get why it's a big deal.

[naloxone]

Maybe it isn't a big deal.
Maybe it could just be something nice.

[scarcastically]

You could wait for my actual birthday, you know.

[naloxone]

When is that?

[scarcastically]

It's in Feb. The 9th.

[naloxone]

Do you want to wait till then?

[scarcastically]

Makes more sense than celebrating it now.

[naloxone]

But that's not really what I asked you.

[scarcastically]

Yeah. I'm fine with waiting.

[naloxone]

Okay.
Good thing candles don't go bad.

[scarcastically]

A huge relief.

[naloxone]

It'll have your name on it.



What is your name? I'm Marta.

[scarcastically]

It's Erik.

[naloxone]

I'll be sure to find you in February, Erik.

[scarcastically]

[ what a weirdo. ]

Sure. I look forward to it.

[naloxone]

[ hey that's weirdo with a guilt complex to you! ]

I don't believe you, but maybe you will one day.

[scarcastically]

[ same thing. ]

Maybe.