It was easy to relate to stars.

He was there, but he wasn't sure if anyone really saw him, shining and existent, or at least that's what he hoped.

Alone. His breath showing atop the winter air, carrying it on its back ever so gently as a mother carries her starving child off to some unknown destination. Anywhere but here.

He was sitting on a wall of cement blocks painted a strange tan, almost fleshy but too much so to represent anything human. His hoodie was thin, but he seemed even thinner. He had been surviving the day on nothing but an apple and M&Ms. But he was surviving. The cold that surrounded him and caressed his cheeks was refreshing, freezing over the cracks in his mind. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, his left hand playing with a loose piece of notebook paper folded hastily but purposefully. His hands were always cold, regardless of weather or circumstance.

Legs dangled six feet above the concrete sidewalk to some strange internal drum beat.

His mind was frozen, at peace.

The only real wonder was how long he would be this alone.