Why is it so much harder to see the stars here?
It was a silly question; she knew why it was so difficult to see the stars. There was too much interference, too much artificial light shining up from the ground. It created a glare that made viewing the much dimmer stars that much more trying. But she wasn't thinking about that while she leaned her forehead against the cool, blurry window panes and stared up at the sky.

Her mind wasn't really on the stars, anyway. She could pick out the constellations and name the brightest stars in the sky on a good night; but tonight all that were visible were the brightest and most familiar. Orion was standing on the eastern horizon, marching at the head of winter's mad and ravening armies.

There would be snow soon, she knew it. It was in the sharp bite of the air as she inhaled, and in the pattern of fog her breath made against the chill windows. There was snow in the air and in the sky, written across the far horizon in lines of sketchy clouds. It was in the trees, bare and shivering, and in the eyes of the children that walked past her window every morning on their way to school.

She looked up at the sky and thought about snow. Maybe this year, they'd let her open the window. She wondered what it felt like. Once, long ago, so long ago she couldn't even remember when it was, they'd let her outside. The sun hadn't been out, but it hadn't been nighttime yet, either. Stormy, the skies had been, looking bruised like her arms when she woke up. Looking like her eyes after she'd been crying; swollen and dark, dark, dark. She remembered feeling the wind, the world exhaling a breath of air. It had felt nice against her cheeks, warm and wet.

They hadn't let her stay outside very long; she'd been very small, and they'd been very afraid. She wished they wouldn't be so afraid; maybe then they'd let her outside again.

A car drove by, its headlights glaring, and for a moment her eyes were too dazzled to pick out Orion's jewelled outline. It only gets harder to see them, every night. I wonder if I'll still be able to see them, tomorrow?

She settled herself more comfortably against the window sill, and watched the silvery grin of the moon climb across the sky. Across the city, more lights flared up, until the glare became too unbearable. Orion had long since marched beyond her sight when she finally went to bed. Tomorrow, she promised herself, tomorrow she would stay up a little later before the glare grew too strong. Tomorrow.