He pointed up at the night sky, pinpricks of light breaking through the clouds as the stars fought to be seen through the lights of the city.
“Do you ever wish on them? The stars, I mean. I used to wish for love every time the first one appeared in the evening. It’s meant to be lucky, you know? And I wonder if there was always another one I’d missed which broke that luck, hiding behind a building or something. I think of love all the time, write about it, feel it, but any love I think I’ve found starts to break over time. And it hurts, but I still wish for it. It’s like a habit now. It’s become second nature, something I think of without even pausing. There’s magic in the stars, magic in wishing. Maybe I want it too much and it becomes suffocating, and I shouldn’t wish so hard. But I can’t stop”.