Maisie lay upon the roof of the house, outside her bedroom window, the shingles still warm against her back from the summer sun.
She looked up at the thin smattering of stars that could be seen so close to the city. They offered solace and soothing, reminding her of her sweeter childhood.
Out here, she didn’t moon over her true love, or fret over finding another, or feel the emptiness in her arms that closed around no one.
Looking up at the stars, she was angel, above the world and at peace, and even her voices and turmoil might cease.
The Demiurge could not take everything.