Shooting stars fly past our heads every day,
Big, small, bright, dull
Each taking its own unique path to destiny
As we watch the countless stars fly past,
We wait for the right one, the perfect star, to cross our path
And soon there are fewer and fewer stars...
Each bright and obvious,
But still we are not satisfied
And, then, soon after there are no stars left...
Don't wait for the perfect star,
"Perfection" is fictional
Nothing is perfect
Hitch your soul to a shooting star, the first one that flies by,
Even if its path becomes rocky,
There are plenty more stars in the sky...
"Watcha writing, Naota-Kun?" She asked me, leaning over my shoulder to look at the paper I was scribbling on.
I paused for a moment before answering. "Nothing important," I said, crumpling the paper and tossing it into the middle of the aisle.
"Passengers, we have almost arrived at Sunflower City. Please fasten your seatbelts, we may come across some turbulence."
Mamimi quickly buckled herself in, while Naota decided to take his chances.
Besides, right about then, Naota would welcome a bump on the head with open arms.