She was alone. She knew she was different. He did too. He missed her. Remembering only seconds of their encounters, though they had grown up together. He had fallen from a tree near his house when he was only nine years old. It was not a very tall tree, so the branch he was sitting on was not nearly 5 feet up. He stared down at his friend, daring her to sit with him. She was quiet and stubborn and insisted on staying on the ground. He reassured her they wouldn’t fall.. But still, he fell from the tree. And she caught him. He just stared in surprisement at the grass, merely centimeters from his nose.
He had only one picture to keep the memory of her alive. One old, faded, ripped photo, which she had always been vividly present in. Standing with her bare left elbow on his shoulder and the other in the pocket of her short cut jeans. Her long ponytail rested on her shoulder lazily as she smiled up at him. Only slightly though, for he was only a pencil shaving than she. The tree he fell from was there too, but only 15 feet tall then. They were young and alive, all three, boy, girl and the tree. Only 10 years old then and you could see the bright green-gold fire in her eyes. Then one day, like all things, the fire left. And she did to. He didn’t bother looking for her because he knew she would come back. She always did. So he waited. Some days by her house, some at the base of their aging tree. When he sat in the shade of the tree, he would her voice in his head saying This tree has lots left to see. I do to. The difference is I can leave this place.  But when it and I have seen all we wish to see, we go to the stars in search of something else. She would point to a star and say That’s where I will go when I am done here, and you will be there, and she would point to the star right next to the one she chose.
As months passed, he stopped waiting. He stopped wondering and wishing on their stars. That’s when he found the picture again. Nearly 10 years had passed since she left and nine since he had last seen the tree. Only two things remained in the photo. He saw himself, young and happy, blushing slightly with his hands in his pockets and the tree. The tree was small and bright like them. Only he could not see a them in the photo. Only a he. Her white silhouette was the only thing she could see of her. Every detail of her young self and free spirit was no longer there. No girl. He put the photo on his desk, climbed out of his window, and ran to the tree. He saw it and his heart fell a beat behind. It had seen it all. It wanted the stars. Like her. He climbed the dying tree one last time and sat where he had nearly 10 years previous. And fell.

The ground was soft and only at his back and under his knees. He opened his eyes slowly, a smile creeping across his face. Light overwhelmed him as the wind engulfed his face in a pool of soft golden curls and. The tree’s leaves turned green behind him and stood straighter, wanting to stay instead of go to the stars. But he only saw the green-gold fire resparked her eyes. Aged and mature but still free and untamed. The fire he sparked by falling. Because the stars were not ready for them.