I could feel it in the silence, which it was always silent and I generally didn’t much care, but there was something new in the unmattered space between the two of us, that same space that was so remarkable for always being nothing. If you want to believe that I’m capable of thought and emotion then believe that I thought and felt that getting closer always to her in a barely perceptible spiral eons in the making while she sent her constant message of love was good, a reason with enough merit to justify our dead corner of the universe.
What I felt was a weakening. I considered it carefully over the course of several thousand years while watching her surface spit and spark with plumes of orange and red. Never before had I bothered measuring the passage of time, but now it seemed important, vital even. I watched. And I spun. And I revolved. And things got worse.
Her messages stopped. It happened gradually, but it happened. I began to feel colder, and she seemed somehow smaller. Then her light became gray and stopped altogether. I was still drawn to her, though there was nothing to be drawn to but inert matter. I stopped considering us as being alive.
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