The sun had supposedly set hours ago — the day had been quite dreary, the clouds a dull grey comforter covering the sky, dusting all with a constant drizzle. I needed to get out of the house; while the air had cleared hours ago, I was choking on words and feelings that I didn’t know how to possibly express. I slipped on my earbuds and headed out into the dark.

Wood smoke hung low, caressing tree trunks, the clouds thinning and parting to reveal a battery of stars even amongst street lights and glowing windows. “This Year” started playing and I murmured the chorus like a mantra.

I walked in the cold and all I wanted was to call you, to let you know that I was thinking about you, that I wanted you to walk beside me, your hands in your pockets, me looking at the ground, saying nothing but meaning everything. I closed my eyes and thought so hard, wondering if the constellations would carry them to you, but the stars kept quiet.

His lighter shone in the distance, a beacon home. Reluctantly, I went.