The stars twinkle mischievously in the evening sky. The Great Bear stands on the horizon, strong and mighty. A gentle breeze washes over me, enveloping me in a cool blanket of reassurance. Nothing else exists anymore. It's just me, the sky, and the stars.

Mars shines bright, a red-orange dot against a denim blue sky. Autumn always said it looked magical, like a sign of something good. She would know. She always went with her guts. I reached for her hand, but only felt grass, drenched in midnight dew.

"I have a feeling," she'd said one day. "I just have a feeling, Zay, that something good's gonna happen soon."

" Autumn," I'd protested. "What if your gut's wrong this time?"

"Xavier. Please. Has my gut ever been wrong?"

No. But this time, it was. Because three days later, they found her crumpled body floating at the end of a river, her dazzling amber eyes as lifeless as the fall leaves collecting on her grave. If that isn't the exact opposite of good, I don't know what is.

It couldn't be a coincidence that Autumn had died as the first leaves began to drop to the ground. Fate was unpredictable; no one ever knows his plans. Not even Autumn, whose instincts were scary accurate.

The stars smiled down at me, like Autumn shooting me her lopsided grin, with one tooth slightly chipped and her deep almond hair blowing in the wind. Like she was waving down at me, gathering me in a warm hug - even though she was never the hugging type - and telling me that it was gonna be okay. The crescent moon reminded me of her tight-lipped smile, the one she hid behind her hand whenever our senior history teacher called me out for dozing in class. And when the teacher turned around, she'd nudge me playfully with a shoulder just in case I fell asleep again. Her eyes would always be bursting with amusement, and endearment. I'd give anything, anything, to see those eyes again, flecked with emerald green that sometimes looked as fierce as the blue flames that burned brightest at the center of a flickering fire.

But I'd never see her again.

Autumn would always sneak into my backyard to stargaze with me. Two nights a week, she would find a way to get into my backyard. No matter what.

Never again in my life would we lie down together on the old, ratty picnic blanket, spilling our greatest secrets as the steady sound of the crickets rang in the distance. Never again would she grip my hand as we stared up at the sky, giving it a tight squeeze and shooting me a smile as bright as the moon itself.

I still remember her last touch, her wrist grazing my back as she gave me a short, tight hug before leaving me abandoned on the high school sidewalks.

It's like I buried my joy with her.