the stars

x.

by the time he realised how much those sparkles meant to him both emotionally and physically, he wrote down the time he would make it an obligation to wake up every night-mid-dusk to see them.

to others, it may have been an occupation, a regular routine of the next episode of star-gazing, just an ordinary look-out, a glimpse of billions of stars that could have been entities of their own.

in the distance, no matter how many miles away, he would think of it as that sort of thing where you pour milk into a cereal bowl of coco pops, or honeywheats, expanding as the milk was poured in. or the freckles on the nose of his mother's face, or the paper crafts out of the back of darla's bike.

maybe even the gleam in tom's eyes when he said "they look so cool." this was enough for him, enough for the galaxy above him, too.

he would spend most nights gazing out of a window, admired by the spheres of light that had seemed far brighter than the sun. thousands of them clustered together, circling, connecting and drawing perfect lines he'd pick out before they'd even begin.