I’m sending all the love and good vibes to you, your mom, and your family, I hope she recovers soon!!
“Cassian.”
Air slips into his lungs.
Cold, with the metallic tinge of cleaning solution.
Air flows out. Silent, not a sigh or a cry. Squeezed out by muscles that work relentlessly for the greater body’s benefit, with disregard to the galaxy around them unless something barges in and changes that.
Cassian’s galaxy, now, is the broken tile between his boots. Something heavy must’ve fallen on it, or perhaps an agitated loved one smashed it.
Around him personnel swirl by, pushing hoversleds, checking datapads, hobbling on crutches. The array of sounds falls on uncharacteristically deaf ears. He’s as present as the scuff marks along the floorboards. There, indifferent, unnoticable.
Feeling absolutely nothing.