Sagittarius A* lives in the middle of our galaxy. He is the darkest being ever seen, and he can line up almost fifty of his grandsons- the stars- across his body; in fact, his potbelly is so large that people even call him supermassive behind his back. Don't tell him though. He may get offended. He satisfies his ravenous appetite by trying to clamp his massive jaws onto everything around him- whether it be stars, dust, or even light. If a star accidentally enters his extensive territory, he will roar to life and the star will become his dessert before it can jump away. Now, Sagittarius A* prefers to spend his days sleeping while waiting for his next meal, but that wasn't always the case.

When Sagittarius A* was a young (or younger) black hole- perhaps 13.6 billion years old instead of 13.7- he was active. By active, I mean that he burnt many calories by chewing up more and more of his smaller companions. Back then, stars used to venture into his territory, and they would be snatched by his sausage-like fingers and slipped into the pockets of his jeans. Because Sagittarius A* was a bit like Miss Havisham, he enjoyed watching stars run around him like cats chasing their tails. The stars would become so excited at the prospect of escaping Sagittarius A*'s grasp, that they would begin to glow and invite their friends to the party. Together, all the stars would create so much light that it would blind anyone around them. Their ecstasy could be seen from galaxies billions of light years away, and the party continued, as oblivious stars failed to notice that Sagittarius A* gently tugged their friends away from the party, sprinkled a little salt on them, and then devoured them. The party kept continuing until all the stars were no longer, and Sagittarius had swelled to an unbelievable size.

Now, Sagittarius waits in the center of our galaxy for a daring star cluster to tickle his toes once again. He's had a few appetizers here and there, but he's licking his lips now, eagerly awaiting his first meal in a long time. In fact, I hear there's a nebula heading his way...

The sun burned down on his tanned body until he couldn't stand, but he continued to walk down the rows of newly plowed earth, dropping seeds every few feet. His thoughts drifted to the sunburns that would line his back for sure the next morning, and his eyes watered as dust flew into them. He stood for a second to stretch the protesting muscles in his back, before stooping over again. If he squinted, he could catch a glimpse of his sister milking the cows in the distance. He knew would have seen the defeat and misery on her face if he had moved closer, but instead he moved in the opposite direction, continuing his grueling task. Seven years ago, he had been ecstatic to begin helping on his family's farm. Time had abated his enthusiasm. He was Sisyphus, performing the same task every day without release. For a fleeting second, he yearned to worry about college and jobs like the rest of his classmates, but his only job was to be a farmer. He wished that he could leave this hell and never look back, but he had to support his family. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind angrily. There was no use in wishing for a miracle. Miracles were not real.

Erin drifted her eyes toward the ceiling, taking a momentary break from her relentless studying. For what seemed like the hundredth time, she wondered if becoming one of the best young mathematicians in the country was even worth sleepless nights and countless days poring over every resource she could find on the Internet. How did others do it? Why was she the only one who couldn't? Ever since the ninth grade, it had been Erin’s dream to represent the United States in the International Mathematical Olympiad, but much to her chagrin, she hadn’t even managed to get past the second qualifying round after two years of trying. She was stuck trying to improve her combined score from the first and second rounds as much as possible. Although it wasn’t her fault that her genetics hadn’t given her the amazing cognitive capabilities that all of her competitors had received, it sometimes felt like God was punishing her by making it near-impossible for her to solve problems quickly. Even in times when it felt like she was incapable of doing anything, the one quality Erin had always been proud of was her refusal to give up. She furrowed her brow, determination apparent in her eyes, and resolved to continue working for as long as she had to.