Stars burn with such passion. They wink and giggle at the sight unfolding below them on Earth. They're the fruits borne by celestial beings. For them, humans are marionettes being held up by the strings of the cosmos. Tonight, the cosmos has a perfect play for both the stars and the humans.
They see us. The sun and the moon, the older siblings of the stars, come face to face at the horizon, greeting each other. The fear of getting caught muffles our laughter, and the thrill of being seen makes it all the more endearing. The trees, decades older than us, sway to the breeze and sigh. They have surely seen a lot of mutineers hole up on this very rusty basketball court whose vibrant blue and green paint is chipped due to the constant downpours and moisture. The paint peels but never leaves its ground naked. The bond that binds this paint and this ground is what binds us as well, and that's what runs through my mind as we imitate the monkeys on the fence. We sit on this very court which saw us run, fall, cry, laugh, study and now sing. All those basketball players who sweat on this ground and consider this court more godly than god themselves would see us and cry, for it's blasphemy what we're committing right now. The sky's now a calm shade of orange, a colour that I wholeheartedly surrender myself to. I turn to look at you all, my home scattered in the flesh and bones of multiple people. The orange reflects in all of your faces, making it more radiant than you already are. Nobody's around, yet we whispertalk. The clouds push the orange sky and come through to hear our gossip. They laugh at all the ridiculous nicknames we use, and their tears fall upon us: rain.
The sky then only turns darker into a deep shade of bluish grey. It drizzles on our feet, now bare. The moon now stood higher than the horizon, behind and beyond all those tall Vernonia shevaroyensis trees. We too imitate the trees and stand up. One of you sings, and I pull the other one up for a dance. We tangle our hands and spin around as we look at the sky and give back the orange it had given us a while ago. I look up and see Orion's Belt in the sky. I point at it and say, "The stars are witnesses to this illegal adventure we are having". And we all shout and hoot ias silently as possible. There's no camera to record this beautiful evening, nor do we have a book or a pen to write it down. Maybe the giant belt is what held us together all these moons after that beautiful evening.
