When reversed, The Star card takes on a different tone. It can indicate feelings of hopelessness and despair, as if one's faith has waned. This reversal may manifest as a lack of inspiration, creativity, and a sense of monotony or boredom, as if the spark of life has temporarily dimmed
The world is a cruel place. I learned that when I was exponentially young. Never, a not a day in my life did I believe that I was going to become a bad person myself.
Yet here I am, in a morgue, swirling a spoon in a coffee and sitting onto a stool next to a dead body that I am the fault of. Ginny's performing an autopsy on him, and I'm just sat there watching her do it. Watching organs spill from his body. Honestly, it wasn't really a problem. I'd seen enough death already that it didn't matter.
Ginny looked up from her work.
"How was your day, sweetie?" She asked, like a mother. A warm feeling spread in my chest. It always happened when she talked to me as if I was her kid or her little sister. I thought it was pretty nice.
"I mean, I didn't do too much, so pretty great." I said, taking a sip of coffee. She nodded, shaking her hand to get rid of excess blood and returning to the organs, tossing a bullet into the tray next to her.
"Awesome!" She said.
I smiled and nodded.
"Yeah. No missions for the rest of the week, hopefully?" I asked, getting off on my bench and going over to the counter, leaning on my tiptoes. She chuckled.
"Yeah, right. I wish I could just spend all my time with you, going to Starbucks and listening to 80's music." Ginny laughed, tossing out the last bullet and removing her gloves.
I groaned. "You never do that with me anymore."
Ginny smiled. "You're growing up, Jazz. We can't be like this for the rest of time." She sighed.
I sniffed indignantly. "I wish we could" Ginny's smile faltered, and turned sorrowful.
"Me too, kiddo. But it's late. You should go to bed. Big day tomorrow." She murmured, walking over to me and placing her hand on my head, ruffling my hair.
I grumbled. "Fine."
--
At night, Ginny's words echoed in my brain over and over again.
We won't be like this forever,
But I wanted to be. I didn't want to lose her. At this point, Ginny was my mom. She may be 20 years old, but she had played such a big role in who I was that I couldn't possibly think of a life without her.
Ginny was my everything. I wanted to be with her forever, eternally in her comforting presence. That was partially why I took this stupid job anyway. I didn't want to lose her. Every moment spent was like a million and to spend those million until I was left with nothing sounded like hell on... well, not Earth 'cause we're not on Earth. But whatever was closest to that statement.
--
I dreamed in scumbled shades of lavender and navy, painting over each other in hues of indigo blue. I dreamed of bright blue eyes staring at me, following me everywhere I went and watching my every move, more manipulation than comfort, drawing the lines that confined me like a prison.
