When she was born they called her sickly. The birth was arduous, she was underweight, and the doctors weren’t sure she would make it passed the first week. Her name is Mona, and she is star. Always a kind word for a stranger, or helpful encouragement to a passer-by, or her last dollar to anyone who asks. Giving strength to those around her, but somehow on a constant search for where she could find her own strength. When she was 14 she thought she found it when she kissed her first boy. It was a birthday party, and the spun bottle insisted she spend three minutes in the closet with Marcus. He later said that when their lips touched he could have sworn light glowed from her skin, and before the door opened again he had fallen in love. Mona's search brought Marcus on Mona's bottle drives for charity, donating time in animal shelters, or magic acts at children's hospitals. He would do anything just to be in her presence. When she was 18 they hiked a mountain to watch the Aurora Borealis, and when the lights glowed the strongest reds and greens Mona collapsed. Marcus carried her the two kilometres home, and he slept on the floor until she finally awoke three days later. It was early morning, and Mona reached for him to come to her. She told him that she found her purpose, and she will love him forever, but the next evening she would be leaving for good, but for now would he hold her. Most of the town came to the park that overlooked the ocean to see Mona off, they hugged her and thanked her, and wished she could stay. She glowed from inside; her stomach, her cheeks. She rose slowly into the night, her fingers slipping from Marcus' trembling hand. Smiling down at her friends until, in a blink, she joined the stars. And still, to this day, children come to this hill, look up at the sky, and talk about all the things they will do that will be special. And some of them go on to do just that.