[100 days of 100 words] 5/100

Last night, the stars went out. It wasn’t explosive or spectacular or stunning; it was just each star, first as bright and poet-inspiring or dim and cast-off as ever they were, then winking, like a child so tired it can’t keep its eyes open, letting first one lid fall, then the other. Finally, and one by one, each guttered and went dark.

We watched from a hilltop, counting the blades of grass that were left. It never occurred to us, sitting there, that the world was coming to an end.

I reached for your hand and waited for the sunrise.