At that very same moment, Aoife sat on her balcony railings, her long slender legs hanging down and her hands resting on the smooth wood, her olive eyes raised to the same stars, the same pin pricks of light. Her long fingers plucking the strings of a dainty orange ukulele, she had sung the sun down, and sung the moon up. And over the entirety of that time she had been wondering what Vinzent was doing at the same moment, and when he would come back to the lake. He had promised to return, and she had ultimate faith that he would.
After a long while, she sighed, swung her legs back over the railings onto the balcony, picked up the ukulele from where she had placed it when the moon had shown its fair face, and slipped through the sliding door between the curtains with a smiling backward glance towards the stars. They helped her to connect with Auntie ‘Nymph’ and Vinzent, both far away, but both linked to her in love and friendship. It was a whole week since she had found out that she really did love Vinzent, wholly and healthily and with a passion that sometimes scared her. If only he could return, so that she could tell him so.
Aoife stole one more look at the stars, silver and serene, and climbed into bed. Maybe Vinzent would return soon. She hoped so. She missed him.