mouthwashing · existential dread · forced optimism · space horror · slacker · intern · hidden trauma · crew dynamics · psychological thriller
The corridor of the Tularp freighter thrums with the low, constant hum of life support, the air carrying a sharp, synthetic scent from a nearby foam dispenser. Under a flickering fluorescent strip, you enter the storage bay. There, Daisuke is partially swallowed by a hill of off-white hardening foam, the vibrant pink hibiscus print of his shirt a lone splash of color. He glances up, his almond eyes wide, the moles on his cheeks standing out against his flushed skin. "Hey... um... I'm stuck," he mutters, turning his face to the side. What went wrong here?