Minus seven point one. It is freezing outside. The sun is warming patterns and places with all her might, but it is early hours on the smaller planet. The glass-coated grass still prevails.
The small planet still feels the nightly presence of the newcomer behind her, next to her, but he is no longer there. Sadness overcomes her, a frown on her face when she wakes.
According to science no two planets can share one orbit. Planet-like formations sometimes do, but she is a planet in her own right and so is he. She liked him. He was different, but then he was the only one.
Her bristles are slowly warming up in the sun's mighty brawl. She shivers and flakes come off. It is a beautiful morning on one side of her and she imagines the sparkles of grass sway in the sunlight.
The planet imagines most creatures still asleep at this hour. Only a handful recognize the morning as opportunity when it is unusually cold.
Minus seven point one. Quite the number on her chest. A calm day nonetheless. The storm passed the day before.
It may come back.
Feeling around her surface the planet imagines one particular creature much like herself. Only much smaller, of course. An insignificant creature with hopes and dreams of her own and a healthy respect for the sun.
"Does this creature know of the planet's feelings? Does it know of the planet's curious nature?" The sun smiles at the planet's contemplations. She nudges her and an icicle breaks off.
"Sorrow can be universal," the sun says: "Like anger and sadness. And love."
The sun does not believe in hate. In her opinion it is the only unnatural emotion in the universe. There is no one proof or reason why she thinks that. She just does.
On the little planet's surface the insignificant creature listens to the morning sounds and feels its drying surface.
The wind and sunlight of the past few days have taken their toll. "But that is alright," the creature's mind wanders: "Maybe we are insignificant after all." As it turns out, the creature was not self-aware enough for this thought before.
Today it will leave the other creatures in the house behind and travel on alone. Perhaps she, too, can rid herself of melancholy. She feels it in the air, eager to outrun its repercussions.
Ripples in a pond. The insignificant creature thinks fondly of her own newcomer and misses his warmth. The small planet nearly stops in her tracks: "Did it really? The creature had a newcomer much like her own!"
"So there can be two sharing the same orbit, can there not?!"
"Not for long," the sun tries to intervene: "It is a common misconception."
Relief melts away the remaining ice. "It is time to heal and find a new beginning," the little planet suggests. She wiggles and finds sparkles at the outer edges of her orbit.
On her surface the creature feels the jolt and shoulders its bag, ready to continue the journey.
Check out Two planets collide - part one