The silhouette of the old pear tree.
“What did your father mean?”
I look at him.
“What?”
“You just changed.”
Naturally he noticed.
I pull the blanket around myself.
“He used to tell me stars were code.”
“I remember.”
“No.”
I shake my head.
“I mean constantly. Not only when we were looking at them.”
Something begins moving inside my memory.
Old.
Dusty.
A feeling more than an image.
Papa in his study.
The telescope.
Me underneath it because I was small enough to crawl between the tripod legs.
A tiny star scratched into—
I stop breathing.
Xavier sits up.
“Sabine.”
“The telescope.”
“What about it?”
I am already getting to my feet.
“Sabine.”
I grab my dress.
“My father's telescope.”
“Slow down.”