The first bright return is a love letter. You can feel yourself wanting to answer it at a run.

Yuna does not snatch the grease pencil. “Bright can mean close. Bright can mean a wall that is a good mirror. Bright can mean a bent ray that stacked on itself like a folded note.”

The return sits almost under the habitat’s chin. If it were Sprat, Paz would be in the porch drinking ginger tea. Paz is not.

TIDE: “High-amplitude return consistent with terrace basalt. Secondary, weaker return at vent bearing.”

You can still pivot to the weak honest thing. You can still chase glitter because glitter is loud.

Reed, dry: “Walls do not need rescuing.”

The paper squid grins. You could peel it off. You do not. You pick.