Puloma had not cleaned the room in a month. Her loss was a personal one. A star she wished to be reborn. She was now alone. Puloma made a mask with her tea towel. The dust had settled into every crevice. She cleared away the brand new cloth nappies bought in the hopes of reducing waste. She coughed through her tea towel mask. Dusting always gave her the allergies. She wiped every speck of dust away. Every wipe made her cry tears that had been locked away deep inside. She decided to start afresh. The paint was in the garden shed. She didn’t know which color to choose. She opened the dusty garden shed door and there in the corner, right behind the paint cans, squawking and squealing with their tiny beaks were little birds. Suddenly she was not alone anymore. Her many stars reborn.