Excerpt

I don’t remember when I first started looking at the night sky.

I mean, I know I must have done it as a kid. Everyone does. You lie on your back, the grass scratches a little, the air smells like summer or dust, and someone points up and says, that one’s a star. You nod, even if you don’t really know what that means yet.

But that’s not the kind of looking I’m talking about.

I’m talking about the kind that comes later.
The kind that shows up after someone you love is gone.

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