Just as I had been staring at Elliott’s picture and wondering what he would have looked like now, a year on, if he had had the chance to live, Sam had appeared beside me. He crouched down in front of the tree and pulled out a smaller photo that had been tucked into the corner of the frame. It was a picture of the moon surrounded in swirls of bluish-gray cloud against a violet-tinged sky.
“Elliott was passionate about everything to do with space,” Sam said, straightening. He stared down at the picture in his hand. “He was always going on about how black holes were portals into parallel universes. He said that one day he was going to find out what was through the other side of the holes.”
From Where the Moths Dance