Ava

I sit on the same roof where I’ve sat a hundred different times. The stars are a wash of pure light above me, the Milky Way splashing across the sky.

“What’s that one?” the little girl asks beside me.

“That, little Kyra, is the star, Vega. It’s a variable star.”

“WOW!” the girl’s voice shouts in wonder. “How far away is it?” she asks in her small voice.

I laugh and scrunch her hair with a hand. “Far, far, FAR away from ...