The Rate at Which the Universe Expands.

Almost falling down from the earth into the stars, smoky, sandy mouthed, we must have seen ten shooting stars. It didn't feel any different, to be one of them. Too have other stars staring back. There was no warmth or shine, only distance, a satisfying nothingness to existence.

The greyscale beach blended into the end toward the east; toward the west, everything was real. The night was too cold for gravity; something else was keeping me grounded.