Time, upon approaching a black hole, seems to stand still to the outside observer. Light slows as the gravitational pull increases, pulling and slowing with more forced until everything just simply... stops.

That's how it was for me, at least, in the beginning.

Her name was GRS 1915+105, and she was stunning. We met when she was but an inkling of light in the darkness of the universe. I loved her from the moment she pulled me into her orbit, but she was never happy.

She wanted to be so much more. She wanted to be everything.

She told me this once, when things were still new between us. I had spent billions of years admiring her from a distance before I finally plucked up the courage to drift her way. She wanted nothing to do with me at first. I wasn't strong enough for her liking. I was small, and young, and weak. Even then, she could have swallowed me whole. But I persisted. My mass may have been lacking, but my love for her was strong.

Over time, we grew closer. We gossiped about neighboring stars and mourned the unwarranted changes of the universe. We spoke of newborn galaxies crowding the empty spaces around us. We shared dreams of sling-shotting into the outermost reaches of space, exploring what mysteries the universe has to offer before we fizzle out into dust.

Some days, we just sat in silence, admiring the vastness of our world and all that it contained. It was on one of those days that she let me in.