The moon shone brightly upon the black ink sea. Its glow, dewy and soft, bled into the sky: filling the void of a starless night.

 

He turned to his father and asked Can I play something?

 

Sure replied his father. 

 

The moon began to recant its story. It sang about how it was alone and that the sky was alone, that the two beings that inhabited one space for as long as time had never felt so lonely.    

 

He looked at his father and saw that he began to melt. A permanent set of smiling eyes paired with the subtle rumbles of the father's humming decorated the area. It was a moment that rarely happened twice. He never forgot it.