Starburst
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An insect tickled my neck, or was it the grass? I couldn’t move, for the weight of the sky held me immobile on the hillside. Stars emerged like pinholes in craft paper, teasing my eyes. But not yet. When would it be? I resisted looking at my watch again: the itch would pass. Be still. The air murmured—voices without words hung; I wished it would stop. I peered harder at the sparkles, trying to see what was yet impossible, as if the miracle would grow from those tiny dots. Then a bang, and I startled. We all did. A moment later, it bloomed in the sky like an exhale, blinding in its brilliance—always beyond expectation. A perfect chrysanthemum, bronze and white, and the spent particles traced a lazy path back to Earth. A familiar march played, and I reached for her hand. When I squeezed, I felt her smile—then pull away.
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This story is a work of fiction. Except where explicitly identified in the afterword, the names, characters, and incidents herein are a product of the author’s creation and any resemblance to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental.
STARBURST. Text copyright © 2025 by Mark Mrozinski LLC. All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in retrieval systems, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
