@ritiual ‘ wake up sixty minutes after my head hits the pillow. i can’t live like this. ’
TWO CUPS OF COFFEE IN HAND she sits across from her pilot. The exhaustion wears upon them both: badges of honor, recognition of service, and what do they have to show for it ? A cup of coffee shared late at night, the effects of which are all but rendered inert, internal clocks wound backwards amongst the inky blackness of space. It’s in these hours that the stress really sets in. She maintains eye contact long enough that she finds the study uncomfortable and instead averts her gaze to her reflection in the dark liquid. ❝ We’re almost there, ❞ she offers in response, hoping that setting his sights on the finish line can provide any sort of comfort. It’s hard to find any these days.
She finally takes a sip of the coffee, the warmth flooding her senses immediately. With a half - hearted smile, she finally looks back to him. ❝ If it’s any consolation, you know I’m always up at this hour. ❞










