Harsh Light

I sat inside the pod for a long time, eyes shut tight, pretending to be somewhere else.

In a habitation dome, perhaps, gradually drifting off to sleep to the sound of hundreds of deep, quiet breaths around me.

But finally, I had to move. The space inside the pod was becoming uncomfortably hot, and small beads of warm, salty water were gathering on my forehead and upper lip.

It was a strange sensation. Condensation, perhaps? A droplet trickled down the back of my neck and my eyes snapped open.

The open hatch in front of me gaped like a missing tooth. I didn’t like the light that was blazing through it, crass and uninvited.

I can do this. It’s going to be ok. I’ll make it home. I’ll say sorry. I’ll be forgiven. It will all be ok.

I fumbled with the buckle that strapped me to the passenger chair. It released me with a gentle *click* - a pastel blue coloured sound - and I shrugged off the restraining harness.

I stood up and stepped towards the open hatch, squinting in the brightness, and peered outside.

A vivid mess of colours greeted me. Pink, teal and red, sitting one on top of the other in sweeping, rolling layers.

It was hard to see where the walls ended and the ceiling... Where was the ceiling?

I suddenly felt very dizzy.