Ramona Young

Hopelessness isn't always out for the world to see. Sometimes it's a crumpled Starcore Academy poster deep under a bunk, sharing room with empty cigarette packs and other trash.

She takes another drag on the latest cigarette. The pulse of crimson blending with the dull pale glow of the the droning vidscreen. The harsh smoke prickles a cut in the roof of her mouth, a wound that would heal if only the tongue would stop teasing it back open.

Shearing the haze, the ship's alarm dismisses Ramona's reverie. Sore muscles strain as hauls her tool belt off the floor where it had been dropped a few hours before. The harsh light from the hallway make her eye strain as she emerges into the hallway, putting her shirt back on from her last halfhearted attempt to undress.

She knew how the episode ended anyway, she wasn't missing anything worthwhile.