MELINDA A. SMITH
literary and science fiction
per aspera
Where were their goddamned doors? Stella squinted, her eyes still unable to adjust to the dark, which was odd- it would normally have happened by now. Why was it such a struggle to pull herself from sleep? Each eyeball strained to find photons. She saw white door frames. But where were the drawings? The sign that said ‘Andromeda’s Room: Keep Out or Else?’ They were all… just… gone. But, then, what lay behind the very tangible lack of doors?
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The door frames still bore the signatures of her twins- a nick from Archer’s hockey stick and permanent marker from Andie’s more obstinate and haphazard toddler days. But beyond that... Well, it was hard to describe.
There were stars. Lots of them. Impossibly tiny, punctate glimmers that seemed too numerous to fit into the field of view her tiny eyes afforded her. Nebular gas moved lazily like clouds on a day with only a sickly breeze.