What do the stars feel when they look at Us?

Chapter 16: Ricocheting down to me

As I walked home hours later, all the street lights seemed to follow my path, detecting all of my movements.

I tried walking faster or slower to break their rhythmic patterns.

I took a break, right where the street leads up our hill. And slowly waited for the electric crackling, flowing throughout the early summer night's air, to abruptly vanish.
I could see both Linda's and my house in the distance. My mom was already asleep.

Linda might've been, too. Their living room was still dimly lit.

My legs hurt. My head hurt.

But the discomfort seemed worth it.

I noticed that to keep on going meant to eventually get hurt at some point along the way.

But you get to see a new perspective.

That I directly climbed towards.

I decided that I wanted to see new things.

No matter how.

And it felt like a revelation that shook the world to its core. 

-

There were thousands of granite pebbles spread around my way.

I wandered so slowly that one could've thought I wanted to befriend every single one of them.

A white, orange, beige creature scurried past.

Peregrine, Linda's cat.

With the scar on her tiny, fluffy paw.

She kept scampering around my legs, meowing.

As if she wanted to lead me someplace.

There were soft and quiet songs, ringing out from somewhere.

Dull but close.

Linda's window was opened. On the right side of the house, away from the city, towards the surrounding forests. Left side, second floor.

I crept up towards the building.

Seated myself below, against the wall, onto the wet grass.

Even though this day had been numbingly eventful, I still felt. And thought.

How crazy it was to know that she was alive. This close to me.

How crazy it was to know that we were separated. But within reach.

-

Linda didn't listen to her weird, repetitive music this time.

There were a lot of acoustic guitars.

Playing slowly and cautiously.

Eventually, she started to sing.

Quietly, more of a whisper.

It sounded like she was leaning out of the window.

I tried to duck down.

Sweat running down the side of my chest, sliding across the dents of my ribcage

I couldn't quite manage to understand what she sang.

But they must've been pretty words.

It was a moment that felt monumental right as it happened.

Being aware of that didn't help with the fear of getting caught.

She didn't move.

I didn't move.

I kind of did.

I fiddled through the grass with my fingertips.

Tiny sticks ending up in my hands.

I didn't dare break them.

And make a sound.

That might interrupt the symphony she sang, solely composed for the night.

Hidden, forbidden, it sent shivers down its spine.

Ricocheting down to me.