The star that had been sewn onto her coat burned through her as if the fabric had been spun from pure hatred. Every stitch pierced through her as if it were a thorn. At night, she looked up at the sky and saw that there were still millions of stars right above her, all burning bright, but people on the street didn’t notice them. They only saw the one that had fallen. The one sewn to her coat with black thread. The star that she wore was the only one that mattered now.
