Her name was Fate, and she wouldn’t have minded if it hadn’t been followed by the unfortunate Sternberg--German for “dweller on a starry hill”. Those who knew her would not readily say she dwelled on a starry hill, (she was a typical New Yorker) but most would agree that the stars seemed to dwell inside her, something manifested by the sparkling characteristic of her dark eyes.
I loved her instantly. Most boys did, but for me it was different. I did not fall in love easily or quickly. My love was cautious and suspicious; because of this, Fate trusted me more than she did the others.
You see, I spent more time than anyone else in New York, staring into those massive eyes of hers and I’ll tell you something: I never found any proof of the stars dwelling there -- they just looked like glittering, black beetles to me.

“Chauncey,” Fate cooed. I could see the beautiful wisp of her voice swirling through the dark winter air.
My breath froze as soon as it left me. A slender hand of hers, white as the moon, found its way around my waist.
“I love you,” I said.
“I know.” Fate straightened up and pressed her lips to mine. It was a whisper of a kiss, that left my lips colder than before.
Oh it was the most pleasurable type of coldness.
Around us, the city lights winked, promising to keep our secret.
Now those looked like stars--stars one could wish upon.

She had two sisters--both blind and bedridden, the very picture of ugliness. They were lucky to be blind, I thought. They knew nothing of their grotesque faces, but passed the days humming to the rhythm of their knitting needles. Click, click.
The people who knew what dwelt in Fate’s eyes did not know that these two invalids dwelt in her home.
I knew, because I had grown to know her, and grown to love her.
She’d shown me them, and pressed a finger to my lips.
I was to be the one to keep the secret, that night.

“Chauncey, hand me that pair of scissors, will you?” Fate smiled at me.
The silver blades reflected the moonlight onto her face as I handed them to her. “I love you,” I said.
Her eyes were black and starless.
She pulled the string of yarn taut -- “I know.” -- and snipped.