Her eyes were alight with starlight wonder as she swayed gently against the night, drunk on the moon and loving every single moment. You couldn't have told her that the world was ending or that the falling snowdrops were the ashes of the fallen. Because to tell her the truth would be to break an angel.
So you allowed her to dance in the would-be wasteland, tripping on her feet and humming a melody out of tune... because oh if she hadn't had such a beautiful night. The girl she liked had said yes and she'd drunk and sang and she hadn't fallen in her heels this time. Her youth had reached its peak and the streets of her beginnings held out their open arms so they might catch her if she were to fall.
It was wonderous magic, a sight to behold and you bathed in her bliss so you could remind her of this night. This night, that would now last forever, thanks to you. If life had to die, let it die while it danced. The moon was growing dimmer and the girl was dancing and, overhead, without any fuss, the stars were going out.
Last Line Source: “The Nine Billion Names of God,” Arthur C. Clarke