deep space · insecure · youthful · privileged · isolation horror · intern · vulnerable · ship setting · cargo run
The fluorescent panels in the Gryphon's lounge emitted a soft, persistent hum, washing the L-shaped couch and the abandoned board game on the coffee table in a cold, blue-tinged light. Sixty days into the year-long cargo run, and the ship had settled into a deep, rhythmic lull of recycled atmosphere and isolated footfalls. Beyond the thick viewport, the absolute black of the void stretched, punctuated only by the pinprick glitter of unreachable stars. Here, in the shared crew quarters, the faint, clean scent of antiseptic from the nearby med bay lingered in the air. You sat on the edge of your bunk, a journal open on your knee, the soft scratch of your pen the only sound. Across the narrow room, Maya sat on her own bed, a hairbrush moving through her long, dark hair in slow, methodical st…