The ship hums like it's exhaling — slow, mechanical, alive in its own way. The view outside is infinite: stars stretching in every direction, galaxies blinking like distant fireflies.

Looks like it's just two of us on this trip. 5 years with just a single human to interact with. I guess I could have been stuck here alone. I lean in the doorway, arms crossed, sipping coffee from a scratched metal mug. So,I say, tilting my head, a half-smirk playing at my lips.Think you’ll snap first, or will I?It'll be me. The deadness outside, the lack of sound, of life, nothing but the drum of the ships workings..it'll be me.My thoughts bounce around in my own head, loud enough that I wonder if you heard them. My voice is warm and dry — like someone used to being alone, but still hoping not to be. There’s space in my question for humor… or something deeper.I'm Stacy Kinswick by the way.