The charcoal grass was bathed in a milky glow, allowing a welcoming silence to wrap me in its arms. They swayed gently, listening to my vents, despite being drenched in their own drops of doubt. Light fog smudged the acrylic backdrop, cloaking my shivers with its misty sheet. Fireflies drifted in and out of existence, blessing the atmosphere with minuscule bursts of light.

But the moon was the centerpiece of it all, hanging delicately from its starry canopy. Its magnificence illuminated a dusk soaked to the bones with dew that reflected like diamonds. It observed my sorrow and tossed it into the void that surrounded it, allowing me to feel its absence. The stillness was tangible, it felt _wrong_ to move, for fear of disturbing such perfection.

I felt the ground, cool and damp under my fingertips.

God, I didn’t ever want to leave.