The boy sat alone on the rooftop. The pitch was steep and the edge of the house disappeared into the night below. Above him, stars fought streetlights for purchase in the sky.

He’d been waiting for more than an hour, possibly two. His body shivered and his bones felt loose. He had never liked heights. Or rather, he’d never been able to stop himself from thinking about falling. Even now, he could see himself slip and roll over the edge, into the night. He could feel the air whistle past his ears, he could hear the sound of the earth rushing to greet him. He could even taste the impact; the coppery wave that carried the pain.

The boy shivered, felt the bones in his hips rattle and shift. No matter how he tried to dispel such thoughts, they always came when the ground was out of reach.

He wanted, more than anything, to climb down the ladder and go inside. He knew his bed was waiting. He knew the light spilling through his window was warm and yellow. He knew that thoughts of falling couldn’t touch him behind closed doors and curtains. And he knew that he would be just alone inside as he was out here.

He shuffled and replayed the words his grandfather had spoken. Words he’d shared before the pain had stolen his breath and his eyes had lost their shine.

“I got something special for your birthday,” he’d said. “Something nobody else could give you in a hundred years.”

“What is it?” the boy had asked. It had been a Sunday; something about the slant of the light and sigh in the air told him as much.

“I’ll tell you,” his grandfather had said. “Only because it a secret too big to keep.” He’d gestured for the boy to come closer, rustling like parchment in his thin green gown.

“The moon,” he’d whispered, with breath that smelled of licorice. “I’ve pulled some strings, and the moon’s going to be closer than ever on your birthday. When you look up, it’s going to fill that sky and shine bright as the sun.”

“How close?” he’d asked.

“Close enough to walk to.”

The boy played the words over in his mind; used them to drive out thoughts of heights and falls; held them like a small candle against the darkness.

“Close enough to walk to,” he said. A small plume of breath rose past his eyes.

In the east, stars faded, mountains found their shapes in the darkness and drew a jagged line across the sky.

The boy’s eyes widened, and the moon rose in their depths.