POV: Leloma
Location: Upper access ledge, Caleront
Time: Cycle Day 14.16
Tags: rooftop echo, architectural memory, unsaid grief, partial recall, atmospheric sync
The ladder still caught on the third rung.
A tiny hesitation in the climb.
She didn’t fix it.
Above, the maintenance ledge curved outward—a low lip meant for sensor access, not standing still.
But she stepped out anyway.
She always had.
The wind was sharper at this height. Not natural, but simulated cross-vent. Meant to feel real enough to keep the diplomats from forgetting weather existed.
She braced one hand on the far pipe, not looking down.
The city lights of Caleront bent slightly in the mid-haze. One of the domes had its filters at half-opacity, which made the orbital glow look bruised.
It had been like this last time.
Not exactly.
But almost.
There had been silence then, too.
And a cup.
And CirrusV.
She didn’t know who had brought the drink.
Or if it had even been shared.
She remembered him sitting.
Or maybe standing.
Maybe both.
She remembered the shape of his hands.
Not the words.
The rooftop had absorbed them.
Or maybe there hadn’t been any.
She sat now, back against the vent mount, knees drawn up like a younger version of herself.
Watched the upper mesh blink far above—slow pulses of the outer relay net.
The Tattoo, if it had been present then, hadn’t shown itself.
Now, she imagined it glowing faintly across his spine.
That impossible pulse.
She wondered if he had spoken to it.
Back then.
She wondered if he was speaking to it now.
The night didn’t answer.
But the mesh pulsed once—off-cycle.
A relay fallback.
Leloma didn’t move.
Just sat.
Breathing in a memory she didn’t quite believe anymore.