Zak glides through the cosmic silence, light-years away from the busy hustle and bustle but anxious chatter in the Welcome Habitat. Aidan's world is gripped by paranoia.

Aidan feels the distance between them. 

Starlight filters through the windows as Zak settles into their solitude. Zak's interior is minimalistic, with every item meticulously chosen to maximize utility and minimize clutter. 

As s/he messages Zak, Aidan gazes out into the vastness of space, a reminder of their escape from the world's chaos.

"And everything is OK with you?"

Only the landing has been dragging on for one hour… Here's the status: 'Your number in the queue: 15568. Number of vessels ahead of you: 8300. The queue has been paused. We will keep you updated.'"

"I don't quite understand."

"There's a traffic jam in the landing zone. Let's see how it goes."

"Ahh, I saw that in the news. Everybody has to wait, even millionaires."

As they continue their conversation, the exchange turns more personal, but their communication feels strained at times.

"I would like to have a quick meeting with you."

"I am busy."

A text message appeared on Zak's holographic screen, illuminated by the dim lights of their small space. Zak is halfway between the Welcome Habitat and the distant colony of Centauri-9 when the message from Aidan flashed before their eyes.

“So yeah - I guess I'm leaving the Welcome Habitat tomorrow. Even though I don't really want to. Do you know what it's like at spaceports… Do you think I can ever come back?"

Zak is contemplating the words. S/He hasn't seen Aidan in person for months, not since the virus has swept across the Welcome Habitat, forcing everyone into isolation and uncertainty. Before that, Zak has embraced a nomadic lifestyle, traveling between colonies and space stations. But everything has changed.

“If I were you, I wouldn't stay in the Welcome Habitat. The situation is just unpredictable.”

Aidan stared at the message, a sense of longing and anxiety gnawing at her. The isolation of space had never felt so real.

Zak continues their journey through the endless void of space. The Welcome Habitat is now a distant speck in the rearview mirror, and Centauri-9 looms ahead, promising a fresh start for their endeavors.

Aidans has opted for an isolated tranquility, but a part of Aidan obviously longs for vibrant streets. Aidan can't help but feel disconnected from the world. 

With trepidation, the visitors venture through the deranged corridors of an abandoned structure, where emotions run amok, and reality itself teeters on the edge of madness. The air is pregnant with the intoxicating scent of heartache and delirium, a surreal cocktail that overwhelms their senses.

The walls, once pulsating with colors and textures bear the wounds of a collective hysteria that mirrors the tumultuous nature of their love. Their hearts, like the peeling paint, are exposed and raw, revealing layers of love and despair. Shifting lights dance through shattered windows, casting grotesque, ever-changing shadows on the remnants of lives lost to the irrationality of existence – abandoned trinkets, love notes penned in the language of lunacy, and broken dreams that writhe like serpents in the minds of the forlorn. Each room shrieks with secrets, riddles of emotion that exist on the fringes of comprehension.

The graffiti on the walls seems to weep tears of blood and laugh in maniacal riddles, a cacophony of emotional absurdity that spans the gamut from profound sorrow to deranged ecstasy.

As they plunge further into this irrational abyss, their love becomes a lifeline amidst the ever-shifting and grotesque landscape. Collapsed walls and hallucinatory debris mirror the trials they have faced together. Yet, the magnetic pull of the incomprehensible propels them onward as they become the last sane souls in a madhouse of emotions, unearthing their own existence in the cacophony of insanity.

But amid the absurd thrill of exploration, there is a profound and terrifying sadness. The building's decay mirrors the relentless march of time, and as they escape, leaving behind the madness-infested structure, they hold onto their shared story, a connection to a world of emotional extremities and lunacy.

Aidan's unpleasant voice cuts through the ether, expressing frustration and heartache like a discordant melody in an otherwise tranquil room.

"Why can't you take a moment to think about me?" Aidan's words hang in the air, heavy with emotion. "This is all a mistake. It's never going to work."

Zak, resigned and wearing a puzzled expression, realizes that there's no use in attempting a response. It's as if their words exist in parallel universes, never quite aligning.

Aidan, determined to be heard, presses on, "I can't handle it. For me, it's like cheating: You feel great, and I feel terrible."

The room feels like a theater of the absurd, with emotions and accusations swirling around like bizarre props in a surreal play. Zak struggles to find words, caught in the maelstrom of Aidan's discontent.

Aidan continues, their voice a tempest of frustration, "Why do you always make me feel like I'm intruding? You get all the recognition and feedback you want, and you always forget that I exist. It deeply hurts me. Suddenly, I'm not good enough anymore. That's exactly how I feel."

In this ridiculous spectacle, they're confronted with the stark reality that their relationship has become a farce, a carnival of misunderstandings and unfulfilled expectations. It's clear that their distorted views of each other have irreparably transformed their connection into a bizarre circus. They stand there, looking at each other with a mixture of regret and resignation.