He smiled at me cheekily, and when I wasn't looking, (I was, but that didn't really matter), he took the sack full of stars and poured them into my bag. They were glow-in-the-dark.

The bag was full, god, it was full of stars, so full that I couldn't buckle it closed. I clutched it on my lap all the way back, grinning at my secret treasures.

I came home to a quiet bedroom, and dug in, pulled out handfuls. They scattered onto the bed, at the end and then near my pillow. I lay between them, smiling tiredly, and I fell asleep with his stars in my eyes.

Still now, there are stars in the bottom of my bag. Sometimes one will surface, tangled in the jumble of keys and gum and loose change. I smile at a thought of him and drop it back. It's good to carry around parts of heaven.

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