[“Patterns of stars, forgotten.” – Molly Brodak]
There are patterns in the stars. Most of us see only a bright random shining, like handfuls of dust flung toward the rising sun. But one of us has seen patterns. We could all read these patterns, he told us, understand their messages, if we would follow him.
We said no, never.
He tried to tell us, anyway.
We shut him up in a cave where the only patterns were in the rock walls’ dust.
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