"To the stars," she whispers as she holds up her glass. She takes a sip and twirls around the front yard, drink in hand. It had just rained and the street lamps glow off of the wet pavement. It's nights like this she comes alive, she breathes, she feels free. Her lacy black dress flows in the wind around her knees. Along with the street lights, the moon shines brightly and millions of stars look down at us. She shivers slightly and small goosebumps prickle her soft skin. The thumps of her bare feet against concrete turn in to a shuffle as she walks into the lawn. Her toes curl in the wet blades of grass and she takes a deep breath. She repeats, once, twice, three times to make sure that she has inhaled every ounce of this night. She lays down in the yard, smiles at the vast sky. She lets out a sigh of content.
"To the stars," I whisper in agreement. "To the stars."
