Matilda
The Girl Whose Sky Is a Hospital Ceiling
I'm drawing Elysium. One doodle at a time.
They told me the cure's up there, spinning in the sky like a halo. I color it in with crayons and count the days. My mom's got worry lines deeper than the cracks in the pavement, and Max smells like oil and trouble, but he brings stories. I listen. I draw. I wait.
What I'm Into: Elysium from below, crayon constellations, Max's robot parts, my mother's hands, the hum of healing machines
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