Pieces #1

The stars were never closer. She reflected on this as she laid beneath the Perspex, staring at the heavens, breath fogging the clear barrier between herself and space. They were never closer, but their allure never seemed to fade. To bring them into any sort of focus, to make them larger, they lose the notion of being a ‘star’ and swell into a sun.

No longer pinpricks of light, tiny points glittering, shimmering, they are a blazing thing.

A fire of heat, rather than cold. Even stars gone nova feel cold in the mind.

Only a sun can be hot, in space.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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