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Some of the falling stars are big: the Governor’s mansion takes one and becomes a smoking hole. Some of the stars are a spark shower; boys chase them through the woods, but the wet loam they kick up always puts the stars out.

Some stars are just right. Corbin catches them in the pouch of her jumper, enough for a bowl full. She pours milk on the stars and eats them with a spoon.

When she’s done she looks up, and serious. Her head is full of fusion. She gets out her scooter.

She has a lot of work to do.