By Ryan Stone
While the other street-dwellers huddled beneath worn blankets and cardboard, Rishi gazed skyward. Smiling.
“Fool boy,” muttered one threadbare man.
“Not right, that one,” another agreed.
Content watching his star, Rishi didn’t hear. She whispered secrets and kept him warm with her quicksilver eyes.
One awful night, Rishi found his star gone. Too cold to sleep, he walked. In a strange part of town he found a girl weeping.
She looked up. Quicksilver eyes came alive.
“Nothing, now.” She offered her hand. Rishi accepted.
Forever more two stars shone together, casting a silver blanket over those below.