"What are you thinking about?" I said, after a quarter of an hour of silence.
You kept staring. "The sky."
I looked at it. The clouds had parted as the stars shimmered, millions and millions of them. Their masses teemed and multiplied above us, till they no longer could be differentiated in a milky smear that careened in a massive, milky, impossibly looming arc enshrined by blackness so big it almost intoxicated you. Billions of billions on teeming trillions of tiny shining stars, every one so beautiful.
"What about it?" I asked, suddenly enraptured by the sight of it.
"I-" He struggled for words. "I hate it. I hate the night sky very much."
I turned and stared at him. "What?" I looked back at the sky. "What about it do you… hate?"
"It's a strong word, I know." He sighed. His breath came out so big. "I hate the night sky. Too many stars." He stared up at the sky, teeming with them. "I want to be the only one."
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check back soon for the entirety of... Conversations Pt. 3!