My opinion on shooting
stars: wishing on them is odd. Why would you place your hopes on such a fickle
object? It is not God. It is not even a star.
The night my little
sister disappeared was the night of the last meteor shower I would ever witness.
We were sitting atop a steep hill. When the first meteor ripped the sky with a
roaring fire, my sister stood up with her arms outstretched. Then the sky shot
a meteor at us, and it engulfed her in little packets of light, like a baptism
to heaven, and she left.
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