New Orleans was aglow with the radiance of fireflies, dancing through the sultry summer sky. The front lawn of every mansion, the trees along every rue were shining brilliant gold. But the people watching them from their porches and windows were oblivious to one thing: each and every one of these glimmering lights was alive. These were no mere decorations, but living, breathing beings with personalities and stories of their own.
Some of these stories were as mundane as Cletus still spiraling around in a daze from having run into a window, or Tammy's narrow escape from a child's hands. But sometimes, every once in a long while, there was a story as beautiful and poignant as the tale of Ray and his Evangeline. Two lovers, shining brightly as the stars, inseparable by all but the greatest of forces.
This is their story. The story of why he gazes at the stars every night. The story of how she gave her heart to him. The story the deepest, truest love the bayou had ever known.