I fall asleep staring up at the stars Mother pasted on my ceiling. Because I was afraid of the dark, she put them there. There, she said, better? Like a night-light but less childish. She didn’t even get the constellations right, Stacey told me when she slept over. So each night when you look up at those stars, you’re looking up at the wrong sky. You’re looking at the wrong heaven. So? That’s fucked, Stacey said quietly. But it explains a lot.
