I find myself staring out the window, trying to conjure your face into thin air. I think that if I can just imprint your face onto my mind, somehow you will be there. I miss you when you’re away. This house gets very quiet and still. Only my reflection in the window keeps me company, but it doesn’t tell stories as well as you do, and it doesn’t have hands to tickle or hold name. The window is cold and still, but I am glad for it. I am glad for my reflection.

One by one, small stars begin to glide around the yard. They have fallen there to keep the window and me company. The fireflies circle each other, adding to their number. Flashing around in their sanctuary they dance like light on a chandelier.

I run to the counter, grab a mason jar, and head out the door. I went out to the forest and caught 100,000 fireflies, each one blinking and bright. I take them to our room and get into bed. I breathe in the scent of the cool sheets as I slide between them. I unscrew the lid of the jar and out fly the twinkling stars. As they ricochet around the room, they remind me of your starry eyes.

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