(no subject)
"It's so wide, so free..." he said, arms hugging the velvet expanse of twinkling night. Unrestrained smile. Fades. His gaze fixes tenuously on me.
"Its a wide constellation. Of cares, of concerns," I offer, remembering someone else's words. "Pinned hope. Fugacious. Flaring past possibility into might-have-been."
Quiet.
"Look," he points at a particularly faint body. Then at another. And another. "There're still there."
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