Describe a night sky.
Betelgeuse was blocking the shot. A filmy haze streaked across the evening sky, just enough to scatter the more brilliant blacks with the tangerine terrestrial glow of sodium lamps. The gall! Had any other hidden behind the filmy mist, it would have been just a bright dot. But. Betelgeuse. Its red glare diffused into a blistering pimple on Orion’s shoulder. The hunter had seen better days.
Heather was already up far past her bedtime, and she did not enjoy the thought of her walk home as she sat stuck behind the console watching Betelgeuse ruin her night. The heavens – nowhere else might one find such a vacuous, vain space. Of the billions of miles spanning the sky, Betelgeuse had to attend its most popular corner, but tonight, it strangely joined the B-list. Any connoisseur of nighttime venues would know that Orion’s belt was the gathering place of the hip and young, the stars.
Betelgeuse was washed up. An old flame. A rare, inflated stalwart of a past eon ogled by too many eyes while it was still the only one that they could see. It was in every tabloid, its life combed over by far too many photographers hoping to start their petty careers. But tonight, Betelgeuse was dying, and Heather had no choice but to grant it one last centerfold.
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