Neutron stars and black holes form from the stellar cores that remain after stars have exploded as supernovae.

          In that moment, as Leslie stormed down the corridor with a rage the colour of blue black skies, he was that black hole.

          Like it, he pulled at the gazes of those who dared taste a glance his way. Like it, he sucked in stares and we sucked out gasps and then for a brief moment those whirlpools of black held my browns and the remaining bits of breath disappeared from my lungs because in that brief moment I swear to God I could see straight through his soul, a stunning excuse for a raging black hole. In that moment I got a glimpse of the supernova exploding inside him.

          It was a dizzying, drunken glimpse that did nothing to soothe my parched throat and everything to my spiking curiosity.

          Because all my life I had always thought beautiful people were made of neutron stars, shining their way out of the explosion.

Leslie was no neutron star.

He was a black hole.

           He was a catastrophe of hypnotic eyes and intimidating silences that had come alive in the wake of its explosion.

            And by God was he the most beautiful aftermath of an explosion.

~~~

// An excerpt from a book I couldn't bring myself to complete.