"Why do you like stars now?"

"Because they are like metaphors," he whispered into the frosty night, "Of things or people you can't have.

You can only look from where you are and watch them shine so bright."

He wondered if she could hear his heart cracking along the same cracklines that he glued back tenderly every night with memories of her.

He wondered if she knew how much the stars reminded him of them.

...

"They say when people die, they become stars in the sky."