We are a family as old as the universe itself. Scattered among the stars, but aware of each other. A billion generations come and go, yet only three come close to aligning. Existing in so many times and places as we do, our meetings can be difficult. Sometimes a longing causes us to exert gravity…causes us to force an orbit. Sometimes a catastrophe does the same. The interactions entangle a few realities, but they are brief. Painfully brief. No matter our frame of reference, the vastness of all things ensures that they are unbearably brief.
Time scatters us again and we return to our separate paths. Comfortable in our loneliness, but always wanting to see the way our past selves encountered the others. Wanting to remain in some kind of orbit. No matter what forces we exert, no matter what forces are exerted upon us, those of us that find one another are but a few among all time and space. Wanderers threaded together in a path of dancing, decaying orbits. Traversing alone, but briefly coming near enough to touch.