The thud of my shoes hit the bridge, but Natty didn’t turn, and that was something I liked about her. She was so calm and unassuming; she was the last rays of a sunset that kissed the world before dipping into starry oblivion. Since I was about nine years old, I realized I wanted to be the kind of person who could be compared to galaxies, like her. But as I grew up, all I found in my chest was a black mass. A void where nothing could survive.
