dust collapses. gas shatters. the clouds' ashes huddle together in one mumbling mass as if to shield itself from the catastrophe it is and then- it blinks. the protostar blinks, and the universe lets out a sigh of relief.

the protostar stretches out its arms and yawns, light rushing to the end of its fingertips as it pushes against the walls of its nebula. the walls give in to its poking and suddenly the protostar's finger tips are in a cooler place and it's fingers' ridges are absorbed back into its skin and now it's a full-blown star. it longs to get away, as far as possible from the humid heat of the nebula's core, so it steps outside and breathes.

inhales. it grows. exhales. it heats up. inhales. it grows. exhales. it heats up. and inhales. and exhales. and inhales, and exhales, and inhales and exhales and inhales and exhales and it can't stop and it feels like it's been breathing forever and it'll be breathing forever in and out in and out its lungs know no bounds and inhales and exhales and inhales and exhales and then-

silence. an earth-shattering, astronomical, supersonic silence. it's quiet, for once. it's cold, for once, really cold, so cold that the supernova can barely open its eyes. it doesn't want to though, for it just wants to sleep, longs to sleep, needs to sleep, and sleep it will.