Her eyes followed the steady, slow blink of an orbiting satellite, and the flash of a shooting star.

I’m supposed to make a wish, she realized. Just like blowing out a birthday candle. As a child, Max never bothered with wishes. When encouraged and prodded by her mother and father she’d squeeze her eyes shut just before blowing out the candle. This seemed to make them happy, and in some ways she considered that wish fulfillment. For a moment she granted the desire of her parents to have a normal child who engaged in make believe, interacted with pretend friends, and wished upon stars.

Max closed her eyes just as she had as a child, and when she opened them and found Edward standing over her, her heart danced, and she allowed it, too tired to stamp down such flittering emotions that had no rational place in her world.