Distant Stars
They kept meeting before dawn, in the hollow where Kasumi had first discovered Shizuku rehearsing. Kasumi would be yawning after a long night at the saloon; the schoolteacher would be yawning as she began her morning. Although sometimes Kasumi wondered if Shizuku had been up all night too.
Soon it would be too cold for these quiet, casual meetings. Shizuku had already added a fisherman’s sweater to her outfit most mornings. But right now, the sky was clear, there was a fire, and a pot of coffee to be poured into two mugs. Not much talk, there had been an endless poker game Kasumi had chirped and hustled her way through, diffusing an almost brawl over a bluff gone wrong. She leaned back, staring at the sky, Shizuku next to her, arm propped on her leg, blue eyes thoughtful, almost as dark as a dusky sky. A shooting star. Kasumi braced for the inevitable, what everyone said. But Shizuku just poured out more coffee.
“Not gonna make a wish?”
“No, ma’am.” Shizuku seemed to think extra polite was a flirt. Kasumi hadn’t decided whether it was an effective one.
“Me neither.”
Silence.
“Why not?”
Shizuku shifted, “I have read too many stories where wishing ends badly.”
Kasumi snorted, “Do you keep them next to your pile of romances where lovers end badly?” Shizuku had been rehearsing speeches from Romeo and Juliet recently.
“Those are tragedies, not romances.”
“Why not read things with happy endings?”
Shizuku turned to face Kasumi, her attention pulled away from the stars, “I want to act in great plays. So I must learn to delve into every emotion.”
Kasumi frowned. There was something wrong with that statement. Something Shizuku was neglecting in her self imposed studies. And then Kasumi remembered a play she’d seen on a visit to New York. A comedy. “Earnest.”
“Yes, I am.”
“It’s the name in a comedy.”
“Oh, Oscar Wilde.”
“People laughed. It was cute. Cecily was darling.”
Shizuku chuckled, “I’m not really suited for comedy.”
“What about love?”
Another star shot into silence.