“The stars. They’re dead.” Frowning, I look up, taking in the pale, sharp edges of Mason’s profile, and once again I follow his gaze up to the distant lights winking back at us from universe. “My dad,” Mason goes on stiffly. “He told me that once. I used to…I used to talk to them. The stars. Like they were my friends.”
Something stutters in my chest. “I’d ask them for things. Make wishes. Tell them secrets. You know.” My breath hitches. “Mason…” “And one night, he caught me, asked what I was doing.” In my periphery, he’s slowly shaking his head side to side. “And he told me… he told me they were just echoes. Light reaching us billions of years after they’d already burned out.”
