Still
by Yurina Yoshikawa

Clara lies down horizontally inside what looks like a science fiction sleep capsule, wearing nothing but a thin paper gown. She stares up at the white plastic ceiling, though it’s so close to her face that maybe it’s less of a ceiling, more like a lid to a coff—

“Ms. Hoshino? We’re about to start,” the technician says into his mic. “Try not to move.”