“I want to tell you a story.” Rosie softly said to Jennie, as they found themselves once again in their familiar routine of waiting for shooting stars. Although, the difference is, tonight is their last night.

Jennie’s gaze shifted from the night sky to the glass barrier where she can see Rosie sitting by the window, her expression a blend of curiosity and intrigue. She had grown accustomed to Rosie’s stories, each one offering a glimpse into the depths of her vibrant imagination. Tonight was no different.

“In a serene village, there lived a girl who was renowned for her inability to tremble.” Rosie started, while Jennie’s eyes remained fixed on the night sky, her posture slightly stiff as she feigned disinterest in Rosie’s story.

“From the moment she was born, it was clear that she was different from the other children. While her friends would shiver at the sight of a spider or in fear during thunderstorms, she remained calm and unfazed. Nothing seemed to make her tremble.” As Rosie’s words wove a tale of vulnerability and hidden emotions, Jennie’s facade began to crack ever so slightly. Though she kept her gaze trained on the stars, her attention was drawn to Rosie’s voice, the gentle cadence that carried a touch of melancholy.

Rosie, well aware of Jennie’s feigned indifference, continued to share the story with unwavering dedication. It was as if she saw through Jennie’s mask, knowing that beneath the cold exterior lay a caring heart. She understood Jennie’s unspoken need for distance, and yet, she persisted in reaching out, hoping to break through the barriers Jennie had meticulously built. “And on a moonlit night, as she lay beneath a sta