I sat cross-legged on the porch steps, fingering my worn and torn copy of Romeo and Juliet. The clouds were clearing, and I could see an umbrella, like the one he used to have, caught in one of the big sycamore trees in front of the house. I could see our star again, now that the rain had passed, and wished that the winds of time could blow away the storms that had torn me away from him as easily as these winds had blown away this one.

I felt something moving on my leg, and slapped at it instinctively, suspecting June bugs, before I felt my cellphone, vibrating in my pocket. Blushing, I answered.

“Hello?”

“Evie, it’s me.” At the sound of his voice, a sound that I had never expected to hear again, I froze. “Do you think we could talk?” He paused, painfully. “I saw our star.”

My eyes brimmed with tears, but my self-resolve only hardened. He could not get me back after what he had done.

“No.”

I hung up on him, throwing my phone across the yard, and glaring at the star, wishing things could change.