I took extra time to apply the right amount of wall putty to each of the plastic stars. I wanted them to stick for good.
She yelled from the kitchen asking if I wanted honey in my tea. I told her just a dabble. She questioned my usage of the word.
I rose and stood on her bed. Her loose headboard banged against the wall. A noise I’ve heard before. I pressed the plastic stars into her ceiling. I was building her a sky — so I could kiss her under the stars.
The clusters were uneven, so I placed one over here. And another over there.
When my hand was emptied of stars and the sky was complete, she came into the room with two steaming cups of tea and asked me which one I wanted. With a quick glance I asked for the black mug.
She handed it over, took a sip of hers, and looked up.
“Should we turn off the lights and see if they work?” She asked.
I nodded and she hit the switch. The room went dark. Her shades were closed and the only light came from her blinking unset alarm clock across the room.
We stared up at the ceiling — the stars were dim. The bigger ones were easier to spot.
“You need to charge them I think,” I reassured.
“Yeah maybe,” She said under her breath.
Just then, one fell, and landed at the edge of her bed. I grabbed it, handed her my steaming black mug of tea, and stood up. The headboard bucked.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m putting the star back,” I looked down at her.
“No. That’s not how it works. You should have put more sticky stuff on it.”
“So you don’t want me to put it back?”
“It fell for a reason.”
I carefully sat back down. The headboard didn’t move.
“Let’s keep doing this until all the stars fall off,” She said.
“What do you mean?”
“Me and you. When all the stars fall off, we’ll end this.”
I looked into her and nodded. “How many stars are there?” I looked up and started counting.
“Don’t count,” She quickly said. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll just know when they’re all gone.”
She handed me back my tea. She took a sip of hers and then kissed me on my cheek.
I write fiction.