She looks to the sky, and tries to count the stars. Numbers and numbers and numbers, she counts, but still, there are many more.

Once she travelled among those stars, once she had seen them. Once she had stared at them through the glass in her quarters, her meditation candles lit around her. They had been so close, so close that she could imagined she could touch them. They had looked eerie in the flickering light of the candles, like ghosts of something past, but they had offered comfort to her anyways.

Those were the days were she felt right, where she felt that she belonged. Even among the humans she had felt like a part of a unit, part of a family. She was useful, and needed, and maybe even loved. Among those beacons of light in the dark night sky, she had made an unexpected home.

But now as her feet touched the stiffness of solid ground, she knew that that home was gone. Now as she stood in the night breeze, her long dress billowing around her, she knew that her world was gone.

Because for humans, time passed so much quickly then it did for her. While she gained few wrinkles and stray grey hairs, her friends grew old, too old. And when the funerals came, they came too quickly, following each other in swift succession until the separate emotions at each of their deaths became just a never-ending sensation of pain.

Then there was his death. There were no words to describe the emotions that she had felt. The desolation, the depression, but most of all, the feeling of utter emptiness. Her love, her soul mate, her th'y'la, was gone. And nothing she could do would bring him back to her.

And now, as she counts the stars, she knows that the pain will not stop. But she can keep, and cherish it, and use it to remember the days when she was happy, the days when she flew through heavens, the days when she belonged.