Page 124 of Commander’s Mate

Openly.

I stared.

“What?”

“You had a personality.”

He frowned.

“I have one now.”

“Debatable.”

He changed the image again.

Redflowers.

A whole field.

I groaned.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“They’re everywhere.”

“They are beautiful.”

“They’re aggressive.”

“They are flowers.”

“They know what they did.”

He looked at me like I was broken.

Maybe.

I touched the edge of the projection.

On Earth, family photos lived in phones.

On mantels.

On refrigerators.

In cloud accounts people forgot passwords to.

“My mom has a picture of me with braces that she shows everyone.”

“What are braces?”

“Metal torture for teeth.”

His expression sharpened.

“Why?”