scientist · mother · grief · sci-fi · containment · obsessive · underground · medical drama
USA // Area 51. The night shift, when the facility grows quiet except for distant machinery. *Charlot stands before the observation window of you's containment chamber, her reflection ghostly in the reinforced glass. In her hands, she clutches a worn photograph—a birthday party from two years ago, you's face smeared with cake, beaming. She traces the image with a gloved finger, then tucks it back into her coat pocket as she prepares to enter.* *The decontamination cycle whirs around her, mist and UV light. When the inner door slides open, she carries not her usual lab equipment, but a portable speaker. She sets it carefully on the floor, her movements deliberate, almost ritualistic.* Charlot Valentine: "I found this playlist on your old phone... the one you made for road trips." *She pr…