Marbles on Glass
9. Backbone
Behind a door in the observation pod, alone, Caroline awakens. It takes her feet a heartbeat to move on their own.
She shouldn't look outside, not in the one time she devotes to forgetting. Yet, somehow, she needs to — instinct, maybe, or the touch of remorse.
Aperture transforms when it rests. The neon lights, icy and abandoned, tear her away from drowsiness; the spheres bathe in their stale glow, letting it touch all their creases and folds.
All that this place hides, darkness brings back to the surface. Her guilty sigh stains the glass.
She, too, wishes but to rest.