As she floated in the vaccum, the idea of being the only thing left in existance began to crowd in around her the way pieces of sand stick to a child's piece of candy as he walks along beach, regardless of how often it gets dunked it the ocean or wiped clean on the shirt of his mother. Finally, when she sank into a depression so deep she was now only aware of physical sensation, she dimly felt one tiny tear roll like a juggernaut down to the tip of her nose, where it leapt into the black void like a skier jumping for a gold medal.
This depression, which most certainly would have killed the weasel under normal circumstances (she having visited no less than 53 psychiatrists for various problems, including her dislike of body hair,) ended up being what saved her. For as both she and her mind drifted in a numb haze, a bright, sparkling light kept shining into her eyes. Sluggishly, she drug herself back into full conciousness, if only to find what the light was so she could destroy it and return to her mindless moping.
She found herself gazing upon her tear, which was gently pulsing with a bright light, a combination of purple and green. It dazzled and awed her with its beauty for quite some time, after which she realized that by filling the sky with these blinking lights, she would no longer be alone.
So, remembering the time that her brother broke her Etch-A-Sketch, she began crying and crying, striving to make the void around her as much like a Lite-Brite as possible.