Even so, the sky finally fell down, though not nearly how we had imagined it. There was no crash, crack, or gash in the nighttime, only streams of light dripping from the darkness like condensation down the edge of a bottle.
The stars melted slowly, steadily, blending together all the colors of the atmosphere until there was no more day and no more night.
And Orion’s lips curled a bit at their edges, as his nervousness turned to a laugh, “Is this it? This is all that happens? What have we been so afraid of?”
But the people bellow screamed and pointed and yelled and argued from their hiding places about who made the stars drip.
But a little boy ran out to his back yard and stretched his hand up to meet Leo as he fell. His mane oozed down the boys arm in the warmest and softest way he had ever felt and they both laughed as the boy, bathed in sun and moon and stars, looked around at his star lit ground, and wondered why the world had ever been afraid of itself at all.