Counting Stars

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She counted stars. One. Two. Three. And so on. Sometimes she feared that she over-counted. How was one to know one from another? She supposed she'd best go on faith. And, really, what would be the harm in counting a particular star or other twice? Or even three times? She reassured herself that it was the counting that mattered, not the accuracy of the count. Regardless, who was there to check her work? No one. Absolutely no one. It was impossible to know how many stars were in any given night sky and she had no time for anyone who presupposed that knowledge. Exactitude was boring and unnecessary. At least when it came to stars. Gas tanks and bank accounts. They needed exactitude. There was room for error in a night sky. She thought maybe that's why she liked to count stars so much. Maybe it was. Of course, maybe it wasn't. Sometimes it was better not to ask. She knew this. Yes, she knew this.

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