Rich Little Stars

The wealthy bright stars spin around and around, overgorged and glowing from the wine that runs like a river into their cups. Little glowless stars flitter between them, filling their cups and plates, not able to rest long enough for their feet to stop throbbing in thick and tingling beats. Flittering and flittering like buzzy bees without the delicate yellow to give them character. They are clad in the black of funerals, hiding their glow so they don't catch the eye of a particularly horrible star and get dragged off to the next galaxy. That happened last fall, one particularly disgusting star grabbed a star and dragged her to the garden, resulting in a black hole that sucked up all the life and happiness from the room with her paranoid stare for months after. She was dismissed from the company after attempting to get justice and losing, the court mercilessly beating her down like a dog for questioning one of the most prominent star's morals. Now she flits around from place to place, her glow slowly fading as everyone pushes against her.