There’s always that moment, coming home. Sometimes when I get to the gate, sometimes stepping into plane itself. The moment I realize that that no one around me looks like me. The flight is long. I stare out the window at the cloud layer beneath us. These trips always feel like I’m in a haze. I put music on earlier, but it just sounded like noise. Something in my mind just couldn’t parse it.

At first it was a small thing, a discrepancy, a set of coordinates not logged in the main computer. Someone had taken this ship somewhere, and they hadn’t wanted their bosses to know. It could have been anything really. But then I saw it again, buried in some circuitry down long halls in the depths of a cargo hauler, the same coordinates. I checked the star maps and found nothing there.

Sometimes life gets choked up and slows to a crawl. Sometimes it runs free over a smooth bed, and sometimes a single hour matters more than days or weeks. This is a short interactive piece called Run. You can play it here on itch.io