Space travel. Huh. Back home, the leaps and bounds they've made probably sound like nothing to a person who's travelled the galaxies. She lets herself watch the sky - it's too still, the stars too static, to be real, but it's beautiful in its own way.
Close enough. Everything here's just... close enough. This city is close enough to a place to spend your time, close enough to a livable place that you can pretend it isn't a prison if you distract yourself well enough. The people sometimes stay long enough that they're close enough to permanent fixtures in your life, or what this existence passes for.
Until, of course, they're no longer there and that illusion is shattered.
But she doesn't want to think about that, not right now. Not when one of those people who are still permanent enough that she can delude herself into thinking he won't disappear as well, is offering tales to her, sharing, confiding something.
(Those moments are, at least, real. Even if this illusion seems to dull the ache of so many things, there are memories that it can't blanket, can't hide with smoke and mirrors.)
"People've got to the moon. Mostly seems like it's satellites." That's what's always reported on the news, anyway. She's pretty sure man making it to another planet would have gained more than a passing mention.
stabs self in heart it's cool.
Close enough. Everything here's just... close enough. This city is close enough to a place to spend your time, close enough to a livable place that you can pretend it isn't a prison if you distract yourself well enough. The people sometimes stay long enough that they're close enough to permanent fixtures in your life, or what this existence passes for.
Until, of course, they're no longer there and that illusion is shattered.
But she doesn't want to think about that, not right now. Not when one of those people who are still permanent enough that she can delude herself into thinking he won't disappear as well, is offering tales to her, sharing, confiding something.
(Those moments are, at least, real. Even if this illusion seems to dull the ache of so many things, there are memories that it can't blanket, can't hide with smoke and mirrors.)
"People've got to the moon. Mostly seems like it's satellites." That's what's always reported on the news, anyway. She's pretty sure man making it to another planet would have gained more than a passing mention.