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Everyone makes a wish when they see a shooting star. Julian brought a catcher's mitt.
He stood on the highest peak of the Midnight Mountains. He waited. A streak of white fire tore across the sky.
Julian leaped. Thwack.
Smoke rose from his glove. He opened it. Inside was a small, glowing rock. It was vibrating.
"Ouch," the rock said.
"You can talk?" Julian asked.
"I'm a star," the rock snapped. "I'm burning hydrogen at millions of degrees. Of course I have a personality. Put me down!"
Julian dropped it in the snow. "I wanted a wish."
"A wish?" the star scoffed. "I'm a celestial body, not a genie. I was just taking a shortcut through your atmosphere and I lost traction."
The star shivered. Its light was fading. "I'm cooling down. I'm going to turn into a black dwarf."
Julian felt bad. He picked up the star (it was warm now, like a fresh potato) and put it inside his lantern.
"I'll take you home," he said.
He climbed higher, to the very edge of the world where the atmosphere touched the void. He opened the lantern.
"Ready?"
"Ready," the star said. "Throw me hard."
Julian threw. The star sailed into the black. It caught the solar wind. It ignited, blazing white and hot. It shot back into the cosmos.
"Thanks!" it twinkled from a million miles away.
Julian walked down the mountain in the dark. He didn't get a wish. But he had a friend in high places.