Every year, before dawn on the fifth of May, Hina would go out into the garden with her grandfather. They would wish on a shooting star, and by the next day the wish would always come true. Hina was certain it was the star’s magic.
This was the first May without him.
She stepped outside alone. Three shooting stars crossed the sky, one after another. In a small voice, she said she wanted a red backpack for school.
When she woke the next morning, a red backpack was sitting in the entryway.
Hina looked down at the garden from the upstairs window. In the corner, her father was standing there, flashlight still in hand.