The sky in Papaloka's memory is always narrow, small, filled with pale blue light.
Even if she closes her eyes now, she can still recall that endlessly swaying pendulum clock and the faint smile at the corner of 'mother's' mouth as she died before her eyes.
In the hotel room, Papaloka poured herself another glass of wine.
Her eyes involuntarily grew moist, as she tilted her head back to gulp down the wine with her left hand, and took a vigorous drag on her e-cigarette with her right, letting the nerve-numbing gases penetrate her chest.
"I know you're very curious about the strength of my home planet, and why they were rejected by the Faya people from joining the Milky Way."
Papaloka licked her lips and murmured:
