One night, when the city lights swallowed every star in the sky I saw a shooting star.
I saw it for a split second, but it was there. I saw it when nobody else did. I saw how it scratched the darkness while others are blinded by the light from their smartphones. I told them there was a shooting star that night and most of them did not believe me, others asked if I made a wish. I said “No, I didn’t ” and saw their dismay.
Why do we believe in such a thing in the first place? An object from the heavens has nothing to do with our earthly desires. If the shooting star saw me looking at it, will it expect me to do something for it?
I can only acknowledge its existence and admire its beauty.
….and it can only wonder why I’m looking at the sky, was I waiting for it, why was the only pair of eyes looking upwards belonged to this person sitting at a table outside a café?
Then again. It was just a shooting star. Embodied by my desire for someone to ask those questions, as I end this post with a period.