A Picnic Under The Stars

A Picnic Under the Stars

are we a happy ending or a tragedy?

Stars shone as sugar split over black marble, glistening what was left of the sun as twilight captured the majestic sky, turning into a brilliant blend of purple and orange. The once bustling city of Manhattan became deserted at night. All the gates shut, and the tiny, beige townhouses were lit inside. Families danced around the table, singing nursery rhymes you could hear from miles away.

She loved Manhattan, she told herself. She loved it because it was the home she never thought she needed. Sure, it was bustling and hustling during the day, but at night, it was beautiful. She didn’t like Manhattan at first, mainly because of the busyness vibe it gives off. At night, everything was possible.

She ran as fast as her two feet can carry her, her chestnut hair falling behind her, dancing in the cold, frosty air. Jumping over a black, rusted gate, she started to climb a wall covered with thick thorns, decorated with red and pink roses. To her surprise, she wasn’t alone.

Both of them were equally startled. “What the hell? Who are you?” She said, troubled.

“What do you mean, who am I? Who are you?” He gasped with a feeble voice.

“I come here to see the stars at night.” She responds. “You?”

“Same here. It gets boring during the day.”

She sits down next to him, getting a good glimpse of his jet-black hair, his sharp jawline, the way his honey skin glows in the dark, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. They sit there for a good while, casually admiring the stars.

“Do you wanna…have a picnic?” She breaks the silence. He falls silent for a moment, and for a moment, she think she’s made a mistake.

“Never mind, it was a stu-”

“Let’s do it.”

She sat there, mouth agape as he took a small blanket from his white tote bag full of college books and tons of snacks he tossed onto the blanket. She snorted as he handed her a Twix bar and some marshmallows. For a moment, she felt butterflies in her stomach, her cheeks deepening to a light shade of rosy pink.

“There.” He points to a constellation. “That’s Libra, and over there. That’s Cancer.”

“I don’t know much about astrology.”

“You don’t need to.” He assured her. “In the sky, you can see their stories.”

“Wow.” She sighed in awe. Those constellations were breathtaking. She’ll admit it, she’s not very good at spotting constellations, but she can find stars. Isn’t that enough?

For the first time, she found someone who understands what it feels like to be confined. To have limited freedom and control, to erase personalities not desired. She isn’t alone anymore.

“Do you .....wanna hang out sometime?” He asked, a little flustered.

“Sure, I’d like that.”