»Look,« I say, »There's Venus, the evening star, named after the godess of love and beauty, because in the night everything can be pretty.«
You don't answer, you don't even look up from the ground where you've been pulling out blades of grass.
»See,« I say, after some time of you staring at the ground and me staring at the sky, »There's Ursa Major, a polar bear to guide us on our way.«
This time you let out a little »hmmp« sound, but you continue your activity of strewing grass over your legs.
»From there,« I say, after I've waited for you to say something, anything, »You can find Ursa Minor, with the North star to protect us.«
Now you sigh very silently, maybe you're tired or bored.
»Over there,« I say, pointing into the sky, »Is Orion, the hunter, to bring clarity to our journey.«
You hum under your breath, examining a leave with more interest than you've ever showed me.
»And this,« I say, one last attempt to talk to you, »Is Sirius, the brightest star in the sky, resident in Canis Major, to help us-«
Before I can end my sentence, you get up from the ground brushing the grass from your trousers, and all I can do is watch your silhouette against the night sky, as you wander away from me.
I don't see you often in the following months, and now youre looking at the sky, now that I can't see it through the ground.