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CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND STARGAZING
🕑 Added 2025-04-06 13:17:20 +0000 UTCThe beach had emptied out after sunset. The bonfires had burned low, the music faded to a soft jingle in the distance, and most vacationers had retreated to their hotels or tents. The sky stretched out above, vast and clear, scattered with stars.
Maggie lay flat on a towel in the cool sand, arms behind her head, eyes fixed on the sky. “You ever stargaze before?”
Contessa sat nearby, legs drawn up to her chest. “Was so busy there were few opportunities to do so. And the skies were often obscured by pollution or light.”
“Right.” Maggie’s voice softened. “Kind of forgot how bad it got.”
Contessa tilted her head upward. The stars above weren’t just visible—they were bright, the constellations standing out in perfect clarity. She named them in her mind: Orion, Cassiopeia, the Big Dipper.
“People find meaning in these patterns,” she murmured.
“They’re stories,” Maggie said. “Old ones. Folks looked up and tried to make sense of the chaos. Gave it shape. Gave themselves something to believe in.”
Contessa didn’t answer right away. Her eyes stayed on the sky, brows faintly furrowed.
“You trying to memorize them?” Maggie asked.
“No.” A pause. “I am… looking.”
Maggie smiled, though Contessa couldn't see it. “There’s no puzzle to solve here. You don’t have to act. Just look.”
Silence settled again, but it was companionable. The stars didn’t move, but something in Contessa’s gaze shifted—less like scanning a map, more like watching the distant embers of a fire she hadn’t lit and couldn’t control.
Maggie yawned, the sound soft and unguarded. “Kind of humbling, isn’t it?”
Contessa’s reply came almost in a whisper. “Yes.”
And for once, she didn’t try to define it. Didn’t dissect the analyze the purpose or measure the distance between her and the stars. She just lay back, stretched out beside Maggie, and watched.
