The Wanderer Among Stars

The Star-Crossed Stray

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It was a cold night, but Orion did not care about that. He never had. Starlit skies are ones to wrap themselves around like a blanket, to fill him with comfort he could find nowhere else. Not in the alleys he called home, not under the occasional rooftop he’d sneak into to avoid the rain, not even near the rare warm meals left out by kind strangers.

Orion was a stray cat. His coat, once glossy black, had become a little roughened over years of street life. His amber eyes, though, were all fire, burning with curiosity and longing, he couldn’t name it but something he pursued very well pulled that kept his eyes fixed on the stars above.

Every night, he curled up in the quietest spot and looked upwards. The stars, he thought, held secrets- of where he belonged, of why he was brought into this world, of what made him more than a simple stray. Orion believed himself to be destined for something greater, and beautiful.

But the stars, as he oft would mutter to himself, were quite a distance away.

He thought that if I could just touch one and hold even a single star, perhaps I would finally understand.

That night was darker than any other. Clouds gathered to suffocate the stars, and in Orion’s chest, it was foggy, much heavier within. The cobblestone streets…