1796

—You've got stardust on your face.

—You could never clean it.

Hayden, talking to his friend, Jack in Not a Star in Sight.

 Jack had lots of freckles on the face, but under the shirt and under the pants there was nothing that proved he was a man.
Jack wasn't Jackson but Jackeline. A young naive-eyed, 19 year-old from Blackburn, who dreamt to become an engineer. Just as Gabriel, her father, who never got any title, but had the brains just as Watt, Newcomen, or Bernoulli*.
Hayden's father, Engr. Hadrien, met with Gabriel. Both closed their eyes to became stars, light years far away from home, but always present.

You could never wipe tears if the soul's still cryin'.

—Where are you going? Where can I find you? Dad.
Gabriel pointed up, up and then his hand felt limp aside the bed. 

Jackie went out that night, there was not a star in sight.

That's why Jack's eyes weren't blue, uncapable of storing tears.
Hayden didn't cried that much; this thought would always come when alone:

No one could ever hear. Not in Manchester, were clouds are made of cotton during the day, but at night esoteric skies will devour our stars. 

**

-B.

*Gosh! As smart as Bernoulli? Then he might have been a freaking genious.

**World's 1st Industrial Era; when romantic prose had dried every writer's hand from the days who became night all inside the faults of the writer mind.