Old Jake wrapped himself in the comfort of his sleeping bag, while enjoying a tranquil weekend sleeping beneath the stars. He yawned and scratched the gray stubble that had take occupancy on his face in the last day and a half. Gazing into the dark sky, he began counting the glowing stars and remembering how his wife Dorothy enjoyed pointing out constellations.
He could almost hear her soft, sultry voice as if she were right there beside him. “You can make a wish, but only on a shooting star. They’re magical because they don’t happen often.” Jake felt his lips stretch back into a smile as he pictured his love; long black hair, petite, and always smiling. When she passed away, so did his liveliness. His life was lackluster with the absence of her love and infectious laughter. Jake fixed his eyes on the stars, waiting forhis shooting star. He had a wish to make. He would ask to be reunited with is love.
His eyelids were getting heavier with each blink, but he couldn’t doze off. He had to keep watch for his magical star. Suddenly, he saw a bright light streaking across the sky; he closed his eyes so tightly they hid within the deep wrinkles that encircled them. “I wish to be with Dorothy,” he mumbled softly.