Star Light, Star Bright
“What are you so damn afraid of?” he said, perhaps more harshly than he intended. His beautiful jade-green eyes flickered harshly in the sunset.
The sound of waves, slowly melting into the sand on the shore. A radio, playing somewhere. The gentle summer breeze sifting through the beach grass, making a low, keening whistle that could never be recreated.
“Afraid? I’m not afraid,” I said, although we both knew it wasn’t true. I couldn’t look him in the eye, so I sat with my toes in the sand, looking up at the stars, tracing the outlines of the constellations I had grown so familiar with.
He looked so beautiful, so confused, in that moment, with the fire of sunset spilling into his hair. I wanted to hold his hand, but it just didn’t feel right.
“There’s a void,” I said finally, staring out into the ocean. “Somewhere inside me, there is something missing, and that terrifies me.”
It was his turn to be silent, and stare up at the stars, where in my dreams, millions just fell from the sky.