The Lakers were lapping up points on the TV. Maggie had fallen asleep on the couch. Glen looked at her. She was beautiful. The chilling breeze through the window brought her shiny black hair down on her cheeks. Glen looked out the window and saw the Moon. Equally beautiful.

He turned the volume of the TV down (he feared switching the TV off would wake her) and got himself a bottle of rum.

'It's enchanting up here,' thought Glen as he sat down on the floor of the patio. The stars twinkled like they always did. Glen spotted the Great Bear. He made himself a drink and put the Weathered CD on.

Scott Strapp's voice seemed to blow the still air up towards the sky. Glen hoped it wouldn't snow or rain now. He was enjoying this.

Stan had been a rock-n-roll fan with the Beatles dominating his tastes. Stan, so far away and distant, just like the stars up in the sky. Stan was nostalgia, Glen reminded himself. Stan was hurt, pain and despair. He gulped the glass in one go, made another and limped towards the ledge. He peered below. There were patches of snow on the wet concrete street. He sat on the ledge, faced the silent sky and closed his eyes. He felt tears tickling his nose and the rum stinging his throat.

"Starry Night," muttered Glen. "Starry Night, You gave to us and took away from us, the only thing that mattered, your life." He recollected Tupac's collection of poems, the bestseller. The Fluttering Pages. He reminisced.

Scott as if taking the cue sang in the background:

The day reminds me of you
The night hides your truth
The earth is a voice
Speaking to you…

Glen never realized when he fell asleep.