"And now, to something a little more magical—something that might just make you believe in wishes again."

The screen flickered briefly as the camera cut to the studio. A man and a woman sat behind the news desk, both smiling a little too wide under perfect lighting. The woman leaned toward the camera, her eyes sparkling like she'd waited her whole life for this segment.

"Tonight marks the peak of what astronomers are calling the 'once-in-a-million-years meteor event,'" she said, practically glowing. "Thousands of meteors—visible across nearly every part of the world. Scientists say we won't get another chance like this until long after humanity's gone extinct."

The man chuckled, adjusting his tie.

"So basically, you miss it tonight, and you'll be reincarnated as a squirrel before you ever get to see it again."

"Exactly," she grinned. "Cities everywhere are holding public viewings. Parks are packed. Rooftops. Beaches. Everyone's coming together. If you've got someone special, bring them. If you don't—"

"Bring a blanket and some snacks and pretend the sky is flirting with you."

They both laughed.

"No matter where you are," she continued, her voice softening slightly, "look up tonight. Even just for a minute. The universe doesn't usually make appointments like this."

The segment ended with a slow zoom of sparkling simulation footage—cascading stars over a model Earth—and a gentle piano track that faded as the screen switched back to news headlines.

I blinked at the TV for a few seconds longer than I meant to, the colors still dancing faintly in the dim light of my room.

Alright.That kind of convinced me.

My phone rested in my hand, unlocked. I'd been scrolling through nothing—just swiping out of habit, not even looking. Some meme. An ad. A blurred selfie someone had posted with the caption "ready for tonight ✨". I had no idea who they were.

The phone screen dimmed and shut off. I didn't bother turning it back on.

I stood up with a stretch, the floor cool under my socks. My room was quiet, not in a peaceful way—just… stale. Like the air had given up moving.

Light from the TV still flickered on the wall behind me as I made my way to the bathroom down the hall.

The mirror lit up as I stepped in front of it.I didn't look great. Not bad. Just... there.

Dark blond hair—messy from the way I'd been lying on my bed. I ran a hand through it to flatten it down a bit.Gray eyes that always looked a little tired, even when I wasn't.Not tall. Not short. Kind of that annoying in-between where no one remembers your height.

My jawline was too soft to be sharp, but not soft enough to look young. I had one of those faces that made people say, "You look familiar" even if they'd never seen me before.

I brushed my teeth without thinking much, rinsed my face, patted it dry. Fixed my hair a little more. A shirt that didn't look too worn. Sneakers that still had some white on them.

Done.

I walked back to grab my keys and wallet. The hallway lights were off, but a faint yellow glow came from the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" my dad's voice called out, flat and tired.

I leaned around the corner just enough for him to see me.

"Out. Meteor thing."

He glanced up from his chair, one hand on a mug, the other holding his phone.

"With Jakub?"

"Yeah."

He didn't question it.

Just nodded once.

"Aleks, don't come back before midnight. The dog gets anxious with the door."

"Got it."

The streets still held the warmth of the day. Not the kind that made you sweat, just that soft cling to the pavement, like the heat hadn't decided whether it wanted to leave or not.

Shadows stretched long across the sidewalk as the sun slid lower behind the rooftops. Streetlamps hadn't flickered on yet, but the sky had already started shifting—colors bleeding from blue to purple, soft hints of gold melting into the clouds.

I passed by people heading toward parks, carrying foldable chairs and bags of snacks. A couple laughed as they juggled a rolled-up picnic blanket between them. Kids ran ahead, yelling about catching shooting stars. A group of teenagers in matching hoodies was taking selfies near a fountain.

The whole city was preparing to look up.

I kept walking.

The corner shop was open, warm light spilling through the doorway like it was trying to chase away the coming dusk. I pushed the door open, the little bell above it giving a tired jingle.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of old candy and cleaning spray. Shelves lined with snacks, energy drinks, and a fridge humming quietly in the back.

I made my way straight to it and opened the cooler. The cold air hit me in the face, crisp and sharp. My hand hesitated for a moment before I grabbed the familiar glass bottle—dark red, a faint cherry-vanilla tint swirling behind the label.

The kind of drink no one really talked about but somehow always stayed stocked.

I closed the door, bottle in hand, and made my way to the counter.

That's when I heard them.

Two guys, maybe seventeen, leaning against the wall near the exit. Loud enough to be noticed. Not loud enough to be confronted.

"Hey man," one of them said, voice light, a smirk already in it. "You out here solo for the big romantic sky-show?"

His friend snorted, elbowing him.

"Don't be mean. Maybe he's meeting his girlfriend. Right, bro? You look like the type that pulls meteor-chasers."

I didn't answer.

Not angry. Not embarrassed.

Just… done.

I placed the drink on the counter, slid a coin across the surface. The cashier barely looked up, just nodded and tapped a button.

"Enjoy the show," he muttered, handing me the bottle.

"Oh, he will," one of the teens added with a grin, "all the stars to himself."

I walked out before they could say more, the cool glass bottle sweating slightly in my hand.

A few minutes later, I turned onto the quieter path. The sounds of chatter, music, and cars faded behind me, replaced by the crunch of gravel under my shoes and the soft rustle of wind through trees.

The path wound gently uphill, flanked by overgrown hedges and an old metal fence on one side. Faint outlines of distant apartment windows blinked in the growing dusk like lazy fireflies.

My spot came into view—a half-buried bench sitting slightly crooked under a lone streetlight in a mostly forgotten corner of the park. The light flickered once, then held steady, casting pale gold across the worn wood and cracked pavement.

I sat.

The bench creaked beneath me, familiar.

I popped the cap off the bottle and let it fall to the ground. Took a sip. Too sweet. Perfect.

The sky above had opened just enough to show the first stars, tiny white dots blinking into existence one by one. The clouds were still pulling apart slowly, streaks of purple and orange slicing across the horizon.

Somewhere nearby, a cicada buzzed. A car door slammed. Laughter echoed distantly and disappeared again.

I leaned back.

No one called. No one messaged.

Not surprising.

But for once… that didn't feel like a bad thing.

If this was the peak of teenage life—sitting on a crooked bench with a bottle of too-sweet soda and a view of the sky—well... maybe it wasn't that bad.