Like the stars, youthful dancers scintillated tonight. They glowed crimson against the hypnotic darkness that perpetually flickered on and off. Strobe-lights. And their bodies radiated a galvanizing warmth that could spark any dreary night-sky. Star-lights. They were outside, moving to the song currently in style, close together to form a circle with many and growing layers of people. (A star accumulates its fierce brightness through its expansion outward—it burns faster and grows until it can no longer.) The merriment became contagious, approaching me; everyone guzzled and consumed sugar at an astonishing rate, unsustainable. Appreciating my solitude, I moved from the refreshment table to the abandoned blue house.

I felt transitory, like Halley’s Comet, entering Earth’s view every seventy-five years. I pass into these dancers’ lives once, and then, forgotten. I shed ice like a comet, and will soon disappear from all memories, like a ray of sunshine across a puddle on a busy road. I know I lack the excitement and liveliness of the Red Supergiants, the duration of the white dwarfs, and the intensity of a neutron star and a black hole. I am infinitesimal: the perpetually expanding space will soon hold my forgotten, unexceptional dust and history.

And at the side of the fluorescent home, I leaned my shoulder-pads against its wall. My white, striped shirt reflected the assortment of rainbow rays from the swirling lamps across the backyard, piercing me with the precision of Sagittarius. Beside me were flowers, many greens and reds that sent me mixed messages to either advance or stay where I was. Already, I observed the moon had shined half across its diurnal path. By its ascent, it looked like the same scarlet as the lips of the arriving girls. By its descent, it looked like the same verdant green that was kindling my musing soul.

I listened more intently. The never-ending music sounded like a cautionary yellow. The songs were mainly a repetition of their distinct idea: individualism, happiness, or love. Their appeal discernibly resonated with the group, because everyone was thrilled. I enjoyed the command of the tugging songs, and its playful power that caused teenagers to succumb to its abilities. Yet I knew none of the partygoers.

I left when the stars began to lose energy, but at home I dreamed myself back to the party. In my misty world, the grass and rocks and trees ignited in my presence when I approached them. The red flowers by the house withered while the green flowers bloomed. The moon guided me with its ethereal beam. The moon also danced in its orbit around the twinkling stars. Then, I entered the circle.

Immediately, the mixed smell of sweet perfume and athletic odor smacked my nose. The wall of bodies proved difficult to pass. They were tightly interwoven, jumping and descending to the beats of the subsequent song. Hands waved and clung to beloveds, recently met at the refreshment table. But I managed to thrust myself, with the guiding moon’s support, into the circle. Continually, I traveled into the depths and understood a new type of warmness. The core of the circle would obviously hold the most, so I ventured forth, like an explorer on a new frontier. Now, the varying smells of soda breathed onto my face, yet I was determined to continue until—I reached the spot! The moon floated directly overhead, and everyone was swirling around me.