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they say that the stars we see at night actually died hundred-of-thousands, sometimes even millions, of years ago. but, they're so far away that their light beams are still travelling - which is why we still see them.
but, she pondered, what happens when the light beams end and there is only darkness and the moon? what then?
she would often think of such things when she came here.
the sound of running water, calming.
the rustle of hidden feathers and claws audible in the breeze.
water on the ground soaking into the fabric of her blouse and skirt. cooling her back as she lay there.
grass sometimes poking the corner of her eye if she let her head roll to the side.
the lights from the house up the hill could still be seen in the peripheral. where her grandmother would be cooking dinner next to the radio.
and her grandfather probably asleep in the lounge chair with the television still going.
here it was quiet, though.
nothing but the water and the beasts of the forest. the silent fireflies and the stars.
here she could t h i n k.
about school and work and friends and the norm.
maybe she would try to grow her nails out and stop using a small chip in one as an excuse to bite them all off.
about how she regretted etching her name into one of the desks at school. the cleaner was sure to have her for that tomorrow.
i should probably go and feed the cat...
about the non-existent parents in her life.
or maybe she would forage for some feathers and make a collage...
about the unruly mess her hair would be once she stood from the grass.
maybe she'd start a blog. her first post might be an article on the psychological effects that a lack of parental figures have on teens.
and about the end-ever-nearing stars.
every afternoon, between 4:33 and 7:52, the girl would lay here in the chaos of her own mind.
this was maë.
the lonely, crazy-haired school girl that gazed at the stars.
unbeknownst to her was that a million miles away, a star gazed b a c k.
