"Constellation of freckles."

I made a face. "Oh, that's going on the list."

She nodded with a degree of authority - she hadn't needed me to tell her it belonged on our list of paticularly purple prose, our list of phrases that were to be avoided at all costs.

"Can you even get a constellation of freckles?"

"Well, of course you can, it's an arrangement - it's the implication I resent. That freckles are like stars - who'd have starry freckles? You can't wish on a freckle."

"You could. I think that could be quite a romantic scene."

"Depends on where the freckle is. Add 'wishing on freckles' to the list."

"I really like that - "

"On the list." I glared - a terrifying prospect, if I do say so myself. She rolled her eyes, muttered something as I raised a freckly arm. "I think constellation has something do with meaning, shapes. I don't think you can make a meaningful shape out of these."

"You've seen constellations, right? They don't look anything like...anything." She picked up my arm, examining it - grabbing a pen and beginning to draw. "There. That is...Michael...the...zookeeper. If you'd been born on the 9th of September between 2 and 3AM then he'd be your...what are they meant to be? Ruling constellation?"

"I always liked the idea of them being your pet. Like, pet fish, or a pet ram."

"That has some upsetting implications for virgo and gemini."

"Pet twins could work."

"Pet scales would suck."

"This is getting a bit weird. Go back to the book, we have a list to fill."