If I stood far away and squinted, they looked like stars. True, the sky was really filled with falling snowflakes, but mostly stars. Stars twinkling like bits of diamond, like Tinkerbell’s fairy dust.

This was the kind of beauty that made tears prickle at the corners of my eyes, wanting to preserve it in my memory until the end of time, wanting to etch it on my heart so that whenever I closed my eyes, there the scene was—perfect except for the fact that I couldn’t keep it with me forever. It was something beyond words; something that made me realize how truly insignificant I am, a pinprick across the written history of the world.

Behind the stars, midnight-black infinity stretched across the ceiling of the world. Stars and snowflakes danced across it like notes across a sheet of music. The universe penned her words here, illegible though plainly in black and white.

I wanted the beauty to be tangible, so I could clasp it to my heart.

I settled for simply staring, absorbed in what I couldn’t have.