She stood still, her profile etched in the quiet glow of imagined worlds. Galaxies spun behind her eyes, each one holding a memory she hadn’t spoken aloud in years. Moons drifted close, brushing her skin with light that wasn’t light, warmth that didn’t burn. The clouds moved through her like thoughts, slow and tangled, as if the sky itself had cracked open to whisper her name.

Her expression didn’t shift. It didn’t need to. She wasn’t here to perform. She was caught in that weightless place between who she’d been and who she might become. And in that stillness, even the planets seemed to orbit slower, listening.

Someone once told her she looked too serious, too distant. But they only gave her a bland kind of attention—the kind that never reached deeper than skin. The type that skimmed her surface and missed the storm beneath.

Now, she let her thoughts roam in this quiet collision of sky and soul. Not forward. Not back. Just… outward. And for a fleeting second, she caught a flicker of something—possibility, maybe—out of the corner of her eye.

A glance, nothing more.

But it was enough to remind her that she was more than what the world saw, more than the shadows cast by fading light. She was part of the cosmos now, and maybe, just maybe, the cosmos was part of her, too.