Star could give a rough relatively accurate number, if she was ever asked, for the number of tears she's ever cried. It's not her place, it's not who she is meant to be in her core -- she can feel it turning things sideways, upside down, inverting, as one slips down her cheek in the path her sister's finger brushed.

"She would see The Moon rise."

The edge of her voice trembles with an awareness of foundation that is so foreign and presently absolute. It's not the first time, but that doesn't make it any better. Any less terrifying and heart wrenching.

And still not any less right for being utterly wrong.