And who can say whether that star, in its capriciousness, decides to answer? Who can say with certainty that a random star picked on a chilly autumn night cannot harness all the mysteries of the cosmos and hear from hundreds of light years away this wish the girl dares not utter aloud, a wish so small and secret she only allows herself to think it once while sitting next to a campfire at half past midnight, after most of the other scouts from her troop have gone to sleep and left her almost alone with Silvia (Sil), her crush, who likes wearing shorts even in winter and knits funny hats for herself in the shape of little forest creatures and has never once shaved her legs, because, she says, "It's natural insulation. Why would I get rid of it?" And why wouldn't that star, given a minute to consider the girl where she sits, hugging her knees, casting her longing glances into the heart of the fire so the wrong person won't catch them—why wouldn't that star say, Fuck it! This is an easy one, then grant the girl's wish, which is not to be popular or to have perfect skin or get into her first choice of college but for Sil to sit next to her, just to sit beside her for a few minutes as autumn leaves fall around her in the starlight? Is that so much to ask?