The Stargazing Lodge – Part 2: Shooting Star

Kofi did not answer straight away. A meteor tore across the sky, a long bright scratch of light, and they both gasped.

"Make a wish," he said.

"I wished for something."

"So did I."

"Tell me yours."

"I would like to kiss you," said Kofi, simply. "If you would like that. If not, we will watch the sky and I will say nothing more."

Thea reached across the blanket in the dark and found his hand. "I would like that very much."

His mouth was warm and tasted of tea. He kissed her slowly, carefully, as if mapping a new constellation. The cold wind ruffled the blanket. Beyond them the desert lay silent and vast, and above them the stars went on forever.

"It's freezing," Thea murmured against his lips.

"I have a room," said Kofi. "With a stove. And a roof window."

"Lead the way."

The stone room at the edge of the lodge was low and warm, with a little stove glowing in the corner and a thick wool blanket on the bed. In the ceiling, a great square skylight framed the Milky Way. They did not turn on a lamp. In the starlight, with the stove ticking, they undressed each other slowly, laughing at gloves and layers, and found each other under the heavy blanket. Their kisses were patient. Their hands were warm. Each tender moment seemed to last longer than it should.

Later, tucked together beneath the skylight, she watched another meteor streak across.

"Another wish?" said Kofi.

"I'm saving it."

"For what?"

"For when I come back."

He smiled into her hair. "The southern skies are best in winter. I will keep the telescope warm."

In the morning the dunes glowed red and gold. Thea sat on the terrace with a mug of tea and a laptop, and began her article. The first line read: The darkest sky on earth is not the most beautiful thing in Namibia.

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