When she has poured her drink, we clink glasses and she takes a sip, closing her eyes and smiling. "Stars."
I frown, "Am I supposed to know what that means?"
Her eyes fly open and she laughs nervously. "No. It's just—something from the past."
"Oh." I sip my tiny glass of airplane champagne.
"So. Her."
"Yeah…" I take a deep breath to start describing her, but I can't start talking. Where do you start when you're telling someone about the most amazing person who ever lived, the greatest adventure you've ever had? How do you explain a love so unfathomably strong that it withstood torrents of pain?
"I can't." I turn away from her as my vision blurs.