She’s thinking about the stars.

I can tell by the way she looks at them.

I ask her what she’s thinking.

She says things.

I ask what things.

She says the stars look unusual.

I ask how.

She doesn’t answer.

She starts swinging.

Really swinging.

It goes high.

I can hear the swing squeak.

I swing with her.

It’s weird.

Acting like kids.

Like nothing matters.

When some many things do.