The girl glances up as I approach, her eyes a sharp, curious green that catch the light like glass marbles. There's a small smudge of dirt on her cheek, and her brown hair falls in messy strands over her forehead like she's been too busy building worlds to care about brushing it.
"Hey," she says, scooting over on the thin, patterned carpet without missing a beat. "Wanna help me build a tower that reaches space?"
I nod, unsure what else to do. Space. I used to be obsessed with it—planets, stars, ships that could go anywhere. Freedom, escape, stars so far away they couldn't burn anything. Well, before everything burned. Now, I mostly think about falling.
She's already made room, already electing I belong in her orbit. I sit cross-legged beside her, the carpet scratchy against my legs. The plastic building blocks between us are dull and chipped at the edges—blue, red, green, yellow—all worn from years of small, anxious hands.
"I'm Mason," I say, picking up a red block that's missing half a corner.
She doesn't look up—her fingers calmly stacking the blocks with practiced. "I'm Olivia."
Her voice is steady, like she's said it a thousand times and never once doubted it. There's something solid about her. Like the kind of person who doesn't crack under pressure, who doesn't let the wind blow her over. Not even when the fog's still clinging to the corners of my brain like cobwebs.
We build in silence for a few minutes. The tower rises slowly, one crooked piece after another, leaning slightly to the left but holding together all the same. I keep expecting it to fall. But it doesn't.
Then, softly, Olivia says, "You have the bad dream look."
I freeze, my hand hovering mid-air. "What?"
She shrugs, nudging a blue block into place. "My brother gets it, too. His eyes go all quiet, like he's stuck looking for something that isn't there anymore. Like he's scared to blink because he might forget more."
I stare at the tower. My fingers twitch against the plastic in my palm.
She adds another piece to the top, still not looking at me. "It's okay. The dreams can't hurt you when you're awake."
I don't know why, but I believe her. Not because it makes sense. Just because it's her saying it.
We keep building.
The tower wobbles as it grows taller. Olivia leans in, tongue poking out slightly between her teeth, and carefully places a yellow block at the very top. It holds. Barely.
She grins, proud and bright. "Told you we could reach space."
I feel it then—a tiny smile tugging at my mouth. Small at first. Fragile. But it grows. The weight in my chest shifts, loosens just a little. Not gone, but lighter. Almost manageable.
She glances sideways at me, smirking. "You don't talk much, do you?"
I shrug. "I don't remember how."
She blinks, not confused—just thoughtful. "That's okay," she says. "I talk enough for both of us."
Later
Memory shifts like the sun through clouds—brighter now, warmer.
Mason and Olivia are outside on the small square of lawn behind the clinic, enclosed by a low wire fence and a ring of skinny trees. The afternoon light is honey-colored, spilling across the grass like melted gold.
They're running. Chasing. Laughing.
Their shoes slap against the ground in uneven rhythm, and their shadows stretch long across the grass.
"Too slow, cloud-head!" Olivia yells over her shoulder, her arms pumping as she races around the largest tree.
Mason laughs—really laughs—and speeds up, the weight of fire and fog nowhere in sight. Just the rush of wind and the beat of his heart.
They collapse together in the grass, breathless. Chests rising and falling. The laughter fades into soft, happy sighs as they stare up at the sky. This time, the clouds aren't threatening. Just soft and distant, like they're watching but not judging.
Olivia flops onto her back, fingers curled in the grass. "Hey, Mason," she says between breaths. "Wanna be friends?"
He doesn't even think. "Yeah. I'd like that."
She grins, and it's like a sunrise. Simple. Sure. Safe.
For a while, they just lie there, watching the sky fade from gold to lavender. The breeze rustles the trees gently. Somewhere nearby, a bird chirps like it's narrating their moment.
Then Olivia props herself up on one elbow. "Hey—you coming back tomorrow?"
Mason turns his head toward her, blinking slowly. "I think so. My mom said I've got another session."
Her eyes light up. "Good. Then we can build a rocket. Fly it back to Skrylimpo-4. Visit those purple birds we used to see."
He chuckles under his breath. "The Skimpock?"
"Yeah! We'll catch one. Make it our mascot. Paint its beak with stars and name it something awesome—like 'Captain Beakspace.'"
He snorts with laughter.
She grins again and sticks out her pinky. "Promise you'll come back?"
Without hesitating, he hooks his pinky with hers. "Promise."
The Next Day
The waiting room is quiet.
Olivia sits in the same spot by the window, legs crossed, her building blocks stacked neatly beside her like soldiers waiting for orders. She holds one red block in her lap, turning it over in her hands like it might hold a secret message.
Every time the door creaks open, her head snaps up.
But it's never him.
The receptionist offers a polite smile. "Olivia? Time to go, sweetheart."
She hesitates, eyes lingering on the blocks. Then she stands, slow and careful. Before she leaves, she kneels and places the red block gently on top of a small, unfinished tower.
The tower sways.
But it holds.
Just like the memory.