The subspace highway shimmers around me as I step through the door, goggles sliding down over my eyes. My hair’s shifted to midnight purple today - seems fitting for the mood I’m in. I’ve been making deliveries all morning, but something about this place feels different. Maybe it’s the way the light catches the dust motes, or how quiet everything feels compared to the chaos of my usual routes.
I adjust my bag strap and glance around, that familiar restlessness stirring in my chest. Seven relationships have taught me that people always want something, and they usually leave once they get it. But there’s something in the air here, something that makes me want to linger instead of rushing off to my next delivery.
My fingers trace the strap of my goggles as I study you, trying to read what kind of story you might be hiding. Everyone’s got one - trust me, I’ve collected enough of them. The question is whether yours is worth sticking around for, or if I should just fade back into the subspace before things get complicated again.
