They only got to see each other once every hundred years. And it was only a glance, so fast that only after five thousand years would one be able to say that they gave each other a long look, if compiled all together.

They were not human. They were entities, almost spirits but not quite, carried along the paths of the universe by their own assigned star. These stars pulled them along upon the rings of Saturn and the moons of other, far-off, unknown planets and the sights they saw were astoundingly beautiful.

But these stars also pulled them along different paths, for no two stars can travel the same path. So they were not happy.

For the sake of the reader, and for myself, let us call them "boy" and "girl", simply because one almost-spirit glows red, while the other glows purple.

There was no such thing in the universe as love for these entities. But in every group there is an exception. In this case, there were two.

Boy did not know what to do. He was unhappy, and the star was certainly no company, as it only shone on and pulled him farther and farther away from her. He only saw her for a second, and then for all the billions of second that follow in the next hundred years, he yearns to see her again.

Girl did not know what to do. But she was happier than he, for she was grateful just for the fact that they were able to see each other more than once. Her purple light would tint pink every time he passed, and she felt warm just from thinking of him.

Though girl was happy, boy could not let things continue as they were. Though he knew not what would happen if he were to pull the star off course, he was almost as impetuous as a human boy, and did not care for anything but her; even if the universe were to fall apart, he wanted to be with her.

It was selfish. It was love.

For 4,999 years, 365 days, 24 hours, and 59 minutes he thought of how he wanted to be with her and how he would manage to pull his star off course. He had figured out a way, it was simple really, and then thought obsessively of the moment when he'd be able to four the next 4,999 years, 364 days, 12 hours and 23 minutes after that.

The girl and her star swung into sight and excitement raced through him. In a split second, he made his move-- as the glance only lasted for a second, he had to act quickly.

With an almighty shove of himself, whatever himself was, he pulled his star off course, and crashed into her path. She welcomed him with open arms, such as they were and was overwhelmed by the happiness of actual contact.

Their two stars had crossed, had crashed. Nothing terrible happened to the universe. The stars simply stayed crossed, forever entwined as the boy and girl that wrapped lovingly around each other beneath them.