Descent

“It seems… I might love you.” He had a dream like that. A dream of a star falling from the sky. He closed his eyelids tight, as if crumpling them. Blue, then red, then white. Between the colorful stains flickering behind his eyelids, the faint trace of a star shimmered. Without realizing it, he rolled his hot, dry eyes, trying to see it. “Kieran.” But the man called his name. And so, Kieran opened his eyes. Even knowing that the star, touched by the light, would melt away and vanish like sugar tossed into water. Rather, wishing that it would all melt and disappear. ‘It seems that I… might love you.’ Only a single phrase remained, like the residue left at the bottom. Kieran looked at ...