Record of a Spaceborn Few (Wayfarers, #3)

by Becky Chambers

He wanted to look in the mirror in the morning and think something other than well, I guess that’s as good as it gets. He wanted. He wanted.

Tessa tiptoed forward, anticipating the couch, the table, the— ‘Motherf—’

Sleep sounds quite like death to me, a strange temporary death, complete with an afterlife of surreal visions.

We abandoned more than our ancestors’ world. We abandoned our short sight. We abandoned our bloody ways.