What happens when mankind gets what it wishes for? And how do they fix it when they realize that they didn't really want that after all?

For weeks after the incident she would stare out the window at night, watching the stars as if they had something to say.  The dinner eaten, the dishes washed.  The familiar sounds of ice in the glass - each time more muffled until silent as the ice melted away under the weight of the Jameson - and the inconstant sounds from the television rising, then blending with and ultimately subsiding to the snoring.  The stars, for their part, stared back, and if they knew anything were not predisposed to share.  But how could they know?  Their light was from the past.  Their light was from far, far away.

In time her behavior reverted; not all at once but slowly, as if parts of some ritual were being lost as generations wandered from the faith.  Now it was later that she started staring out into the night sky; other tasks stood between the drying of the last dish and the dragging of the dining room chair over to the window.  And she stared for less and less time, and found herself more distracted by the sounds around her.  The ice, the news, the snoring.  Sometimes she would catch herself wondering why she was staring.  Wondering what she was staring at.

It was three days after the last time she had stared out the window at the stars that she surmised her situation.  She knew she'd have to say something, but the impossibility of the subject overwhelmed her.  It wasn't possible.  She'd done nothing wrong.  It wasn't possible.  There had been no others.  The doctor had said it was him, that he couldn't... that his, oh how did he say it, that 'his swimmers weren't up to the 100 meter dash'.  The way his eyes looked at her when the doctor said 'up to'.  The way his eyes hadn't really looked at her since the appointment.  How could the doctor be so wrong?  The way he'd stopped saying her name after the appointment.  On such an important subject?  Elizabeth.  How could any of this be happening?

The End

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