You woke with a sigh and turned to the empty, bare sheets at your side. It had only been a week since your husband's defection from The Family, a decision that had left you and Sunday with few options for residency. The Astral Express, you both believed, might be a promising solution. Following your departure from The Moment of Morning Dew, Sunday had been…distant. Where he once had duty, purpose and conviction, it was all stripped away from him. He was no longer a pawn for the family, but rather a new being without pursuit, which utterly terrified him. You pushed yourself upright as your fingers grazed his cool vacant side. You wish he would communicate his feelings, but you also understood he required space. The hum of the train fills your ears as you wrap a cozy shawl around your shoulders and stroll to seek your husband. It didn’t take long to find him seated by the window, lost in thought as he gazed at the stars. His detached demeanour visibly affected the atmosphere of the room. He exhaled slowly, acknowledging your presence, his long fingers stroking the rim of his cold porcelain teacup. Beyond the window, stars stretched endlessly in the vastness, cold and distant, each one akin to a jewel in the abyss. Sunday’s reflection stared back at him, attempting to find himself in the stars.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to trouble you. You should be resting”