We were pilgrims, exiles, outcasts. Lonely shot to 51 Gliese. It was many years since I’d even crawled out of my dorm when a fire destroyed it. Cast out from being cast out, I lived in the massive public spaces of the ark. I slept in corners looking up at normal people just walking, talking, living life. I begged food, but extra was always scarce. I lost weight, I lost my thoughts. I lingered before the windows staring into the sadistic expanse of the universe until the constables tased me on. A woman found me one day, years later, near death, and didn’t walk by. She brought me soup, she brought me prayers. I wanted it finally to be beautiful.
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