"Which country in Southern Europe uses ...

The words continued, but he no longer heard them. Again, he forgot the answer. He shook his head for her to tell him - again. The same answers to the same questions. All night.

As she went through her explanation, he stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, his head resting comfortably in her lap. He focused intently on the point of each star.

Another question. More staring. He swallowed - trying to dislodge the knot in his throat. Each swallow stinging him as through it were really one of the stars that was stuck in there. Sighing silently, she repeated her question, and he studied the beauty of Orion's belt.

Forgetting his throat, he felt his face burning from underneath. He shook his head again feverishly.

"I have no idea."

Repeating the answer, she added a little memory trick to help him next time. He pondered the seven sisters.

"What's the difference between ...?"

He should know this. But as he searched and rummaged in his mind, he found only darkness. Suddenly the Gemini twins blurred and rippled out. As she stroked his hair, he prayed and pleaded to the comets that she wouldn't see. Wouldn't notice.

And then, the tear he'd been challenging burned down his cheek. Forgetting the little sky, he sucked in breath - waiting. Suffocating. Her hand drew up and gently dried the salty trail. All at once, the heavens went dark. 1