Janet's Bathroom

A compact personal washroom aboard the Hyperion Three, its walls lined with the same utilitarian steel panels as the ship's crew quarters but softened by the presence of Janet's possessions. Scents linger—faint floral soap mixed with the sharp antiseptic tang from the emergency gas leak. The mirror over the basin is still fogged from Mel’s rapid breathing as she fumbled with the air duct grating. A half-smashed window lets in harsh fluorescent light that reveals corroded tiles grouting where moisture has seeped over time. The ventilation fan whines intermittently, its metallic voice competing with the distant grind of the Vervoid’s approach. Water still drips from the faucet despite the emergency shutdown, each plop echoing like a metronome counting down to discovery.