CW: Brief suicidal ideation, loss of a loved one, grief Minisode Nova and Space NOVA Where to start (beat) uhm (pause) I'm not good at this (beat) that's, uhm, SAWA has(pause) uhm (beat) I don't know how to talk about this directly, I don't know how to do a lot of things, I'm learning, and there are a lot of things that I used to be able to do that I can't, anymore, so (beat), SAWA, SAWA (beat) SAWA helps, this is supposed to help I've never made a goddamn log in my life, but (pause) I'm supposed to focus on what I can do now and, I think I can do this but I, I can't go after this directly, I can't take this one head on so, I'm just asking you to beat with me, just a little bit. I'm not even sure who "you" are, probably me (long pause) yeah. So (beat) Can I try talking to you? Uhm, I know that sounds really weird, actually, it feels really stupid, but I think I'm going to try talking to you. Spacewalks, we'll start at spacewalks. Y'know, a lot of people find space walks uncomfortable. The only thing separating you from a painful death in the infinite chasm of space is a space suit, and a tether. Which I guess can be a bit disturbing if you wonder about fraying and misaligned locks. There are so many ways to die out here. Sometimes I wonder why I bother holding on. A slip, a quick unhook and a push, that’s all it would take. All it would fucking take. It would look like a moment of carelessness. A mistake. So many people die this way. And maybe if I die, I’ll get to find you. (beat) But you wouldn’t want that for me, would you? (short laugh) So, every time, I double check my locks, make sure the tether is in one piece, check for fraying, breakage, wear and tear. I’m careful. I hum that stupid song you forced me to remember, as I check over my suit and oxygen supplies. And it turns out, you were right, sometimes the view out here, is just (breathes) it’s fucking amazing. You were the first and only person to make me feel like an entire planet could fit in the palm of my hand. You showed me how to do it, as a joke. Trying to calm my nerves. I can’t tell you why something so stupid became so important to me. I mean, god, you were one of the most impulsive, infuriating, headstrong, meddlesome people I’ve ever met. I should have hated you, I tried to hate you. And now I just spend all my time looking for you even when I know you’re gone. I search for you on planet. Every fucking planet I land on. Scanning crowds for your swagger, your headscarf, ears tuned to find your voice somewhere in the din of thousands. Sometimes I even expect you to come out of your room or radio me. I look for scarves you’d like. Hell, sometimes I even buy one. There’s a growing pile in your room of shit you’ll never use and (beat) I guess, what I’m trying to say is that when I was with you, I felt powerful and in control, and with you gone I can’t even stop myself from buying shit I don’t need. And nobody told me about this. In the convent, when kids left, they were just gone. The nuns were old, and when sister Haria died... Alula, this fucking hurts. Does it get easier? No, I mean, it has but will there really be a day when I can think about you without feeling like I’m one good shove away from shattering into pieces? I’m waiting and waiting and waiting, but I can’t imagine it. It feels so incredibly far away. I miss you in ways I didn’t even know were possible.