Under the Stars

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Under the Stars

At the end of a trying day at school, a young woman made her way up a small hill behind her house, and sat on a small bench to watch the sunset.

Since she had her head up, she missed the arrival of a young man until he was quite close, but she smiled at him, and shifted over on the bench so he could sit beside her.

For a while they sat in silence as the sky turned from orange to purple to black, and then, once the constellations were visible she took off her shoes and sank her feet into the cool grass with a sigh of relief.

Shortly after, the young man also removed his shoes, and as she watched him, she saw through the thin material of his socks that his toes were painted a bright red. The question rose in her throat, but she closed her mouth to block its release, waiting instead for him to speak.

But, even after he took off the socks confirming what she had seen, he merely let his painted toes be soothed by the grass for a while before sighing and looking back up at the stars.

An hour from now, in the kitchen of her home, he would answer the unasked question, which would lead to tears, then laughter, and then tears again, but for now they both bathed in the starlight until the moon rose to join the parade in the heavens.

Many years later, when she recounted the story of this night, she would say she could swear that just at the edge of hearing there had been a song playing, the song of the stars.

And that no matter what else she did with her life, she would always make time in the sunset hour, so she could hear it again.

End

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Comments

Powerful...

Powerful little vignette. Extremely well done.

Thank you

Abby

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no, thank you, Abby

my readers are why I love to write here, so thanks for reading, thanks for commenting, and I'm glad you enjoyed it.

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As Close To Perfection As You Can Get

I had to be careful not to read any other comments before adding my own.

I think the message is that appearances don't matter - though knowing you, Dorothy, it won't be quite that simplistic. I may need an hour or two to think that through.

But what struck me was the beauty of the prose, the sharpness of the observations and the wonderful way the narrative covered so much ground in so few words.

This is about as close to perfection as you can get.

Ban nothing. Question everything.

wow, touch!

I'm totally blushing at your praise. thank you!

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I Speak As I Find

I speak as I find, as you may have noticed.

But the quality of fiction on this site, which was pretty high when I registered last year, seems to be coming on in leaps and bounds. People are striving for excellence, and very often achieving it.

What have you begun here, Erin?

Ban nothing. Question everything.

Thought provoking and well written...

Ole Ulfson's picture

as always, Dorothy. I seriously enjoy reading your work!

Ole

We are each exactly as God made us. God does not make mistakes!

Gender rights are the new civil rights!

Thanks, Ole

I'm glad you enjoyed it.

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What Does Matter?

She decided to concentrate on how she was really feeling rather than respond to her bias.

Jill

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)