She counts the stars over and over again. She's always yearned for the night sky, even though the ground is so much closer, solid and true. Once she's done counting, she lies down, but sleep tends to evade her, so she escapes into one of her usual reveries. "Isn't it odd? I may not know your face, but I would recognize your scent and the warmth of your embrace anywhere..."

She counts the stars over and over again. She's always yearned for the night sky, even though the ground is so much closer, solid and true. Once she's done counting, she lies down, but sleep tends to evade her, so she escapes into one of her usual reveries. "Isn't it odd? I may not know your face, but I would recognize your scent and the warmth of your embrace anywhere..."