Cancelation

[What are you doing here?]

". . ."

[Two. Months. Two months. TWO!]

". . ."

[!/#%^ ÷⅚@+')]

". . ."

[. . .]

". . . sorry."

[How long are you going to stick around this time?]

"Probably only this time."

[. . . why come back then?]

"I . . . I don't know."

[(REDACTED) has 『muted』 you]

"Should've expected that, honestly."

*sigh*

Now let's try again.

"Mommy, could you tell me a story?"

"Sure, my child."

"Once upon a time, there was a man. He lived and grew up in a nice, safe bubble. He enjoyed the bubble very much."

One day, as he was lying on the floor, he had a thought to himself, 'Is there anything outside my bubble?'

The question was an unusual one, as for many years prior, he was very content with his life in his bubble. But this time, he wondered.

"Do I enjoy this?" And so to answer this, he got up from the floor and went to the wall of his bubble. The bubbles' walls were opaque, never showing the man what might have layed beyond, in all the years he lived there.

Putting his hand out onto it, he felt the coolness of the bubble membrane. The slick, but not wet feeling, had always relaxed the man when he got bored playing around.

Pushing his hand into the bubble a little more, he saw it push slightly back, but his force was enough to win, with his hand stretching itself outward bit by bit.

'Ah'

It got to a point where the man suddenly realized he might pop the bubble if he pushed too much. But this realization came too late as *fwoop* his hand and arm went straight through the membrane.

But to his surprise, the bubble didn't pop, nor did he feel pain of suddenly having his whole left arm out.

In fact, he didn't feel anything outside. Curiously, he went further out, getting all of himself outside the bubble.

Nothing was all around his white bubble. No air, no matter, no time, and no space. Just nothing. The man was saddened by this discovery.

Turning around, the man bear witness to his bubble. His imperfect but totally his own bubble.

But the empty around him made him want to cry, for the empty was not liking of him or his bubble. Nothing came upon them like waves, determined to make them empty.

The man fled back into his bubble, nicked on his foot as he got back in. Now, in his bubble, he got his energy back and hatched a plan to make the empty go away.

But first he spent 500 years playing and having fun, for they were to be his lasts. But then it was time.

Standing in the middle of his bubble, he breathed in, breathed out, and then spoke.

"I am life. Loved by myself. Emptiness will hold nothing of mine.

Let - the man grows.

there - the man grows more, stretching out his bubble.

be - he starts to glow, the bubble in tandem turns wet and cracks.

light." - the beginning starts, the empty retracts, and the bubble and the man pops.

"The end."

The mother looks down at her child, having already slept when the first words come out of her mouth.

She bundles her child up neatly and goes to the window.

"Hmm. Do you wish to hear more?" She asks to the sky above.

"No, that's enough for now. I don't wish to try continuing whatever this has become."

[ [] isn't going to like that, you know.] She utters from her metal lips.

"I don't ca - . . . sorry. I'm just not feeling it."

[Forever?] Saddens in her vocals.

"Nah, I'm sure I'll come around again. But until then. . ."

[Sure, do what you want. We got plenty of time outside anyway.]

"That you do.

. . .

That you do."