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The night is long and within it are a million stories waiting to be told. Some are short, others are long. They are watched by thousands upon thousands of loyal viewers; the stars watching and twinkling from the sky above. Only within the eternal void can these endless tales be told. Perhaps the strangest thing is that they never end. No matter how quiet the voices get, they never fade entirely. And somehow, somewhere, they are all happening at once.Two men wander home together hand in hand, hair still damp and dripping down their necks. One has skin the color of sweet milk chocolate, dusted with darker hair. The other is pale, spattered with freckles that glowed softly just the night before. Their mouths taste of each other and the dark marks cover their shoulders to give away the part of the story that they are keeping for only themselves. They laugh, drawing close and resting against each other as they ease the door open.When they cross the threshold, the comfort of home eases a yawn from them both in turn. It is perfect for the two of them, plus an extra room to the side for when their beloved rebel chooses to visit her scientist and his Voice. The walk home ends unceremoniously in a flop into the bed. Somewhere, a tattooed tentacle squirms closer to the heat of their bodies. They curl up in each others arms, even as the sun rises, and drift off together.As they slip into a few more hours of peaceful sleep, another couple begins to stir only a short drive away. They would prefer to ease into the morning with soft kisses warm blankets, but the third member of their family licks their faces and whines until his Papis clip a leash onto his collar. He bounds outside, dragging a scraggly man behind him.It doesn’t take them long to return. By the time they do, the second man is out of bed. His skin is not pale, his hair is not blond, but his smile is split up his cheeks and his eyes are empty holes. The third one, a symbol that rests on his forehead, is still squeezed shut to recover from the burning light. A red and white cane taps along the ground until it hits a soft foot. He smiles blindly at his fiance, letting himself be pulled into a hug. Their dog wiggles between them and licks the hairy leg of the darker skinned man. The blind man kisses over stubble and to his lover’s soft welcoming lips as both of his pups wag their tails.As the couple sips their early morning coffee, another man in another town makes his rounds. After dropping a cup off at the radio station for the frazzled station manager to find when she returns to her desk, he climbs the steps of his office building. He weaves through the cubicles with the practiced ease of a desk worker.The first stop is a cubicle inhabited by a ginger with a devilish grin. They bicker and banter, but only have a moment to steal a kiss before the cup has to be set down and the errands continued. He continues up the stairs, stopping on one of the higher floors and peeking into an office. A beautiful woman, smile cut wide by the ragged strokes of a blade, greets him and takes the coffee happily. They too can only talk for minutes before saying their goodbyes with a warm hug. It is a fast paced life, one that leaves such little time for the simple pleasure of morning coffee with friends.Back in the other town, far from smiling office workers and coffee, is a small woman in a police uniform knocking on a door. It opens, but she does not step inside, instead simply offering up a candy bar. A peace offering, in a way, though she has done nothing wrong. Nothing she meant to do. After only a few minutes of exchanging words, she gives a nod and a hidden smile, then turns back to the man who is standing at the foot of the drive.He towers over her, but takes her hand gently. They walk together with radios buzzing until they reach a small cafe down the road from a craft store. When they sit down, the waitress orders their usual for them and gives the woman a lingering glance. There is more meaning behind it than either of the officers could imagine. Two bowls of macaroni and cheese with ham later, plus a piece of pie to split, and they wander out onto the road again. Lunch time is over and they have a camera to repair on the next street. The man lifts his girlfriend onto his shoulders and she replaces the faulty wire with nimble fingers that he knows all too well.Back in the next city over, a woman is tapping her fingers on the table. Five minutes. She swears to the Smiling God above, if he’s late again she’ll finally just shoot him. She says this to herself every time they have lunch, but she never reaches for her gun. That smug smile and swoop of red hair waltz into the tea shop and she can’t find it in herself to hate him that much. Instead, she listens to him ramble while she eats her panini with a small smile. He hits on her no less than five times throughout the meal. She would be worried if he didn’t.Hours later, she carries a pizza through the door of her apartment. Her roommate calls her beautiful. She laughs. They sit on the couch and laugh over the campiness of a so-called “horror” movie while they eat, comfortable with each other and with drinking soda out of two-liter bottles. He beats her at the unofficial burp-off, she beats him at the unofficial wrestling match. A large tripod beeps at them in concern when they lay motionless on the couch for too long. It’s the type of friendship that she hasn’t in many years, but that she can’t imagine living without.Down the road, someone is being treated like a princess. They’re dressed in pajamas. The man who brought the coffee lounges beneath them, focused not on the television, but on their hair. Every touch is careful and kind, meant for them their enjoyment. Their eyes begin to flutter within minutes. As they slip into warm, safe dreams, so does the man beneath them.In another world, another story plays out. Kisses are exchanged through words rather than actions and one by one, green lights disappear for the night. Phones are silenced and laptops are closed. Around the world, a community begins to rest.When they wake again, they will find a million stories waiting to be told. Some are short, others are long. They are watched by thousands upon thousands of loyal viewers, the stars watching and twinkling from the sky above. Only through them can these stories be told. Perhaps the strangest thing is that they never end. No matter how quiet the voices get, they never fade entirely. And somehow, somewhere, they are all happening at once.