The Star

These are idyllic times. They may look like after the apocalypse, but growth is everywhere.

I held it in my hand. So hot, like a portable bonfire. I poked my finger into where it ate away at my skin. It made me flush red. I added my breath and it grew bigger. You've been there, when everything starts to sparkle in the cold.

"We can't do all this harvesting without her."

One day, they had one of these, and then they invented electricity. Our flesh now looks like lamplight. Your sparkle is subtle and mine is coiled.

Dazzle, dazzle, you're a star. Because hope is warm and eternal, and winter is the best time for fire.

Not everything begins as a supernova. Hold it in your hand.

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