Naomi snuck a glance at Evan as they worked side by side. His hair was longer, falling into his eyes, still that shining black. He’d just turned twenty-eight and had settled into his features. For most of her undergrad degree, they’d formed an alliance. They’d studied together, alternating who brought the snacks. Evan had taken her to her first college party and held her hair back the first time she’d drunk too much. They’d been friends, for a time. And she’d let that go.

They scrubbed harder, dousing the glass with more cleaning solution.

“I never apologised,” Naomi said. “For what I said that night.”

“That’s not why we really stopped talking. You know that.”

“Ah.” It was what had happened not a half hour before her outburst. She kept wiping, even though that section of the glass was already clean. “Nothing to apologise for there, right? It was just a kiss.”

The party the night of graduation. She’d tied her tassel to her wrist, watched it flutter each time she moved. He’d tasted of Sprite—he had stopped drinking by that point. Said he didn’t like the crutch it’d become, or who he became when he drank. They’d broken away, both shocked and not at the same time. He’d changed the subject, told her about the job, and she’d lashed out. She ached with embarrassment as Evan kept scrubbing with more vigour than necessary. The red was gone, the surface of the biome clear. As if it’d never happened.

They gathered up the stained, crumpled napkins. They said nothing else as they put them in the trash, moved the screen back to its original place, and made their way to the auditorium. She’d kept Valerie waiting.

Evan parted before she could say goodbye, making his way to an empty seat in the crowd. Naomi went behind stage to watch. Bryony was there, the doctor from Hawthorne, giving a presentation on astronaut radiation protection the next day, her eyes panicked.

“Had she heard about it?” Naomi asked her, head tilting up at Bryony.

“Haven’t been brave enough to ask. Is it still there?”

“No. Me and Evan cleaned it off.”

Bryony let out a breath, bobbed her head in a nod. “Good.” She flitted away, head already bowing over her phone.

Naomi opened her own phone, holding her breath as she searched the platforms. Already the news was cascading. Photo after photo, the ugly red stark against the soft orange of her created, miniature world. Whenever Naomi gave a talk or showed her biome to the masses again, those words would be branded across people’s memories.

Valerie came to stand next to Naomi, surveying the audience. Her lipstick was freshly applied, her hair its usual dark corona.

“Valerie—” Naomi began.

“I know already,” Valerie cut her off.

Before Naomi could say another word, Valerie stepped on to the stage, head held high.