Message in the stars
On the hotel balcony, the blunt from the night before still rested on the small table.
The night earlier, she had bottled a tear that fell without warning. She sealed it in a tiny vial and tossed it over the balcony.
As she stepped outside to finish the blunt, a shooting star suddenly veered off course and headed toward her. She caught it in the air, shaping a sphere of wind between her hands.
Holding the ball steady with one hand, she reached inside, and the star unfurled into a scroll.
“I saw you cry last night. I hope you understand—there’s just too much going on. I’m sorry,” the message read.
Annoyed, she lit the blunt again. She twisted her wrist and snapped her fingers; the tips of her dark skin flared with light, and she used the glow to spark it.
