Emerald

Slow and reluctant, I thought aloud: “Supposing that is true, what does it mean?”

She put away the mirror, the grinned and pointed up. I stared at the tip of her finger, then followed its gesture. What was this? A call to think of God, of intelligent design? Then, with a start, I understood the truth: a familiar tune, playing over the speakers.

“Quiet Stars.”