Burning Stars

Oil lamps glowed beneath creaking branches, and shadows danced across the Avion’s dented metallic shell.

Re-packing their bowls, the men laughed into the darkness—each taking a heavy pull, blowing smoke into the star-studded sky. One ruminated about environmental collapse and AI takeover, as the other quietly considered the works of Marx and opined about the ease with which he could put a bullet through his head: both lost in thought, their whispers fading into the night.

Rabbits flattened themselves beneath towering junipers, and three kittens scurried through a gap in the fence line. Overhead, resident owls debuted beneath a new moon.

***

A large watermelon wedge sweated across the countertop as JoJo clamored atop the dinette for an unobstructed view. I drove the cold spoon down through the peak, the juice spritzing nearby canisters. With the night’s heat settled fully, the fruit’s cool, smooth body dissolved across my tongue as sweat beaded along my brow.

JoJo set to her bowl in ravenous fashion, sourcing the translucent blob I plunked amid her kibble. Lights twinkled along the turquoise cabinet fronts, an ethereal haze illuminating my bed. A network of fans sputtered loyally—churning the heat upward, out through the roof vents.

Outside, the occasional cloud fractured the moonlight, allowing the night to swallow up everything within view; and out from it, nocturnal creatures laid claim to their domain.

***

My fingers traced constellations across his back, and glided over the gentle twists of muscled flesh. His eyes bored into mine; the subtle curves around his mouth testaments to deep, expulsed laughter.

There I lay, unconvinced that I wasn’t dreaming—feeling an eruptive, welcomed mental shift: an enlivening jolt.

I smiled and buried my face into his—recognizing that the unexpected could still happen beneath the same stars that bore witness to life and death and heartache and resurrection as they burned into oblivion.