Triangle

“This is the story of my family.” She pointed, for herself rather than for me. “Aquila, Cygnus, Lyra. Three constellations in an asterism, scattered apart yet seen as one.”

“The eagle and the lyre,” I said. “And the swan.”
Her hand reached for mine. “Did I ever tell you? Arab astrologers called Deneb the butt of a hen.”

“I was there when Eroica said it,” I said, silently focused on the architect’s cold fingertips. “There are so many stories told about these stars. At the café, a curator told me a Chinese legend about a cowherd and a weaver.”

“Each time we learn something new, we take a step away from who we were,” Tara said. “We grew up. It’s great that you have a new life out here.”