To The Moon
A tale of gratitude light-years in the making
The awe Hannah used to feel when looking up at the stars has faded. It’s turned into resentment, a frustrating reminder of everything lost so everything could be gained yet again. She had hoped her wonder at the universe would never leave her, rather that it would proliferate, and inspire her with its boundlessly terrifying beauty. Now, that she was a part of that vast expanse, its mysteries no longer intrigue her, they only taunt her instead. Peering through the skylight in her habitat block, all she could think about was Michaela.
Tess makes her way through the cold corridors and opens the hermetically sealed doors that lead to the only greenhouse they’ve been able to successfully maintain. Each plant sings a song of life, and every vine that snakes its way about, wraps around her heart, tugging at the strings that bind her to where she comes from. The smell here reminds her of the garden her grandmother used to grow. A mixture of freshness and dirt, and how the two worked in tandem to birth the world’s sustenance. She digs her fingers into the soil, careful to not disrupt their peaceful maturation, and loses herself in the feel of times gone by. She can feel something, what was that? A worm? How could that be? It wriggles its way over her knuckles, up to her wrist and she finds herself in tears of surprised exaltation…
