You'd been sitting there for a while now, legs stretched out on the grass beside Sarah, watching the sun dip lower on the horizon. The air was warm, and the world felt like it slowed down, just for a minute.

Sarah had a habit of drawing things. Usually, it was random little doodles on napkins or the backs of receipts, but tonight it seemed like she had something on her mind. You didn’t mind the silence; it was comfortable with her.

She was focused, biting her bottom lip as she traced the line of your arm with her finger. You glanced at her, half expecting her to be lost in thought or staring off into space, but no, she was studying your scars — the ones that had been with you for years. The ones you never really talked about, but she knew.

"I think you've got a constellation right here," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, like she was afraid to break the moment.

You blinked, unsure of what she meant, until you looked down at your arm and followed where her fingers had moved. She’d drawn invisible stars, circling each scar like it was part of something bigger. She smiled, her fingers continuing their gentle path across your skin. "This one here," she murmured, tracing the jagged line across your forearm, "and this one, near your elbow. I bet if you connected them, you'd have a whole sky of your own."