Trigger

I still hoped. The heat would loosen him, send a shiver of life through him. His fingers would stretch, curl and squeeze. He'd sit up and grin.

I left him there.

He was dead. I wouldn't let myself be fooled into thinking anything softer. I wasn't going to see him up there with the other stars, with the first Henry - burning gas, a celestial fart - and all his brothers and sisters, twinkling up there in a happier place. He was dead. I wasn't even going to look at the sky.

But sometimes, in a quiet place, I actually do.

[Verändertes Zitat aus 'A star called Henry' by R. Doyle]