Generation One
***TW: implied suicide***
No one can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.
That’s what you said to me the last time I saw you. You said many other things; we must have sat there in your backyard for hours, but that’s something that stuck with me. We were fifteen, best friends, curious and mystified and determined to figure it all out together. You swept your arm towards the sky in a grand gesture and went on to explain that sound waves couldn’t travel in space. It’s quiet; there’s nothing—no air, even—for miles. You wondered aloud if that was why you were so drawn to the stars.